Last of The Couslands - A Family Story
by Graymalkyn
Summary: As the only heir, Bryce often finds himself reflecting on the events that led him to meeting his wife, Eleanor, and the birth of their children. It is said that their bloodline has never been stronger, and great things are expected from the youngest generation. That is, if they can learn from their mistakes and find their way in the darkness that threatens to finish them.
1. Prologue

Her cheeks were wet. Darkspawn blood, the rain, her own blood, that of her friends, her sweat. But it was the tears that caught her by surprise. Why was she crying? Was it sadness? No, perhaps… Loneliness. As she saw the Archdemon panting, his tainted eyes glowing with ancestral formidability, she could not help feeling pity for the beast he had become.

Had he loved his children the way her family had loved her? Had he mourned their death the way she had mourned the death of her loved ones? The moment before raising the sword, the faces of the many people that had given everything to ensure that she got to be there raced before her eyes.

"Focus," Nerissa muttered.

She felt the hilt of the heavy blade burning with a friendly fire. She looked back one last time to see Sereda lying in a pool of blood, and Sten fighting off the darkspawn that swarmed over her body. Wynne was holding Alistair's body, but his mind was not there. His dead look pierced through her soul.

She felt Wynne's eyes on her. She had shouted something, but Nerissa could not hear her. She nodded once and turned away.

"Forgive me, Alistair," she whispered to herself. Maker, she felt so lonely. She touched her amulet gently. It felt warm and safe._Home,_ she thought. Behind the gasping figure of the archdemon, she saw the loving light of her parents' ghosts. "We Couslands do what we must, don't we, father?" she said blankly.

She ran, at first dragging Alistair's sword, but with every step she grew stronger, safer, faster…

And there she was, standing before that magnificent beast that had shaken her world. The defiance in his eyes was even more encouraging. She felt a surge of exhilaration and fury – a maniacal frenzy. The tip of the blade sailed easily along the Archdemon's neck; his blood washed away her tears, his beautiful voice embraced her soul.

"I'm going home, father," she cried, and she plunged the sword through his skull.

In the moments that followed, she was filled with luminous ancient magic. For the first time in months, she felt light and unburdened. The memories that had accompanied her all those years painted a smile on her face as she let go of her life.

And then…


	2. Bryce

**Bryce**

The minute he saw her, Bryce thought she was the most beautiful baby that he had ever seen.

Not that he had seen a lot of babies. He was an only child –well, at least up to that moment- and he had no cousins. His father had become Teyrn when his older brother, Hyram, had departed to fight for something. _What_he was fighting for, Bryce had no idea. Not that he did not care, but sometimes it would take ages before news from other places got to Highever.

"It's fine, Bryce. You can hold her if you want to."

Nerianna was smiling weakly, and yet Bryce felt the warmth in her voice. The young woman looked even younger and smaller against the huge white pillows. Bryce had overheard Nanny saying she had had to 'move' the baby while it was still inside, and that had hurt Nerianna. Seven days had passed since the birth, and he had not been allowed in the room for fear that something would happen to either of them, mother or baby.

Bryce looked down and touched the palm of the baby very softly. The baby held onto his finger and cooed. Bryce flashed a smile at Nerianna.

"You shouldn't be here, Bryce," his father said behind him.

Cenric Cousland was a stern man. His broad shoulders gave him an air of authority that would make a Qunari think twice before invading the land. His beard was thick and perfectly groomed, rich brown with a few grey hairs. Bryce had kept his distance from his father since his mother, Norah, had died 4 years ago.

The eleven-year-old boy drew his hand away from the baby and hid it behind his back, turning around to face his father.

"Please, Cenric! Let him stay," Nerianna pleaded. "I haven't seen him for a few days now, and all he was doing was—"

"The physician said you are not to strain yourself, Nerianna," his father interrupted.

"I won't, I promise. Bryce… He wanted to meet his little sister. Please, Cenric?"

Cenric certainly had a soft spot for his young wife. He smiled at her. "Very well. He can stay for a short while. But then it's off to your combat lessons; is that clear, young man?"

Bryce nodded silently and waited until his father had left the room before facing Nerianna and the baby. Her peaceful little face made her look like a fairy, he thought.

Nerianna patted the mattress, inviting him to sit beside her. When he did, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and kissed his forehead as he leaned against her, still enraptured by the baby's eyes.

"So, Master Bryce… What shall we name her?"

"You mean she still doesn't have a name?"

"That's why I'm asking."

Bryce blinked. Seven days and still no name?

"Um… Maybe… Nerianna?" Bryce ventured.

"Maker, no! The last thing I want is a daughter with my name. The poor thing has a right to choose her own path, don't you think?"

"I… I guess. What about your sister's name?"

"Elissa?"

"Yes. I think it sounds right. And for you, it'll be like having a piece of your home with you. What do you think, Elissa?" Bryce poked the baby's belly gently. The girl opened her mouth and emitted a cry of joy.

"She likes it!" Bryce cried.

"Indeed she does, darling," Nerianna smiled.

She hoped he had failed to notice her wincing. _"Maker, give me strength,"_she thought. There were so many things that she wanted to do. Her primary goal was to make her husband and son communicate with each other. The poor boy had been very lonely since she had got pregnant –Cenric insisted on him 'being out there and train as he was supposed to do'– and she felt he needed a feminine voice to teach him about so many things.

She heard Bryce's voice from afar. He was talking excitedly about the new mabari hounds and the horses that had been brought from Antiva to pull the carriage that Nerianna would ride around Highever, so that everyone would meet Elissa. They would love her, he said, and she would always be protected by the townsfolk.

Nerianna nodded and yawned. She chuckled at the sight of her stepson trying to hold the baby. Suddenly she felt better.

"Dear, can you call Mother Morana before going to your lessons?"

"Must I go?" Bryce looked at her with sad eyes.

"You know you have to, Bryce. It's your duty. Besides, who will protect us if something happened to this castle?"

"Nothing will happen, Nerianna. This is the safest place in Thedas," he said, rather proudly.

"Well then, who will protect Elissa from the horde of suitors that she will attract when she's older?"

Bryce frowned. "We could teach her to fight. I know! I'll teach her to defend herself!"

"Unless you go to your lessons, young man, I don't think you'll be able to. Besides, Morana needs to inscribe Elissa's name in the Cousland register, in case…" She stopped. A strange feeling came over her.

"In case…?" Bryce asked, distractedly.

Nerianna frowned. Something did not feel right. The atmosphere in the room had grown colder and unfriendly. She looked around and saw Elissa fixing her gaze on her.

"In case… we forget her name. What was it? Marian? Porfiria?"

"Elissa, silly," Bryce giggled.

"See? You need to do it as soon as possible."

Bryce stood up reluctantly and sighed. "Alright. Mother Morana, here I come. Please, do not talk forever!" He ran out of the room, leaving Nerianna to feed the baby.

* * *

A knock on the door woke him up.

"Master Bryce?" It was Nanny. "It is time."

Bryce fumbled for his robe, trying to hide his trembling hands. Nanny walked him to Nerianna's room. For the first time, he did not feel like being there. The whole place felt cold and hostile.

"Come here, my boy," he heard Nerianna's soft voice.

When he saw her, he swallowed hard to contain the scream that wanted to come out. Her pale face was no match for the whiteness of the pillows. Her heaving chest was hollow. Her golden locks now looked the colour of stable straw after the rain. Dark shadows had spread around her eyes.

Bryce looked away, only to meet his father's gaze. Cenric's eyes and nose were red, and Bryce thought how unusual that was. Suddenly he felt Nerianna hold his hand; it was a strong grip for such a delicate, weakened hand.

"Bryce… Remember? What we talked about… When Elissa was born?" The words came out in short strings. "You promised to teach her. To protect her."

Bryce nodded, still unable to look at her or say something.

"I… I know you will. You always do… What you must." The ghost of Nerianna's smile lit up her face for a brief moment. There were so many things Bryce wanted to tell her, to ask her…

Mother Morana touched his shoulder reassuringly. Bryce mustered a weak smile, leaned forward, and kissed Nerianna's withered cheek. "Such a good boy," she whispered, and closed her eyes peacefully, breathing in and out slowly.

"Come away, child," Morana said, and Nanny led him gently towards the door. She closed the door behind them and walked him back to his chambers, but Bryce was unable to enter his room. He looked towards the door opposite his, which led to Elissa's nursery room. Something compelled him to go there; perhaps it was the need to feel the bond with his half-sister in that obscure moment.

Elissa looked radiant. She was three months old now, and she was rosy and healthy. Her auburn hair and blue eyes resembled Bryce's. As silly as it might have sounded, he felt glad for that, as if they were even more connected.

She was still awake when he picked her up. Nerianna had told him how to do it properly, so that the head would not bob around. Elissa touched his nose and opened her mouth joyfully. He nuzzled her cheek and kissed her forehead.

"It is my duty to protect you, Elissa. You have nothing to fear," he said out loud. The baby looked at him, taking him in, and then put her thumb in her mouth and fell asleep.

In the distance, Bryce thought he had heard a man crying. He held onto the baby as if she was a piece of flotsam.

It was a stormy night, something unusual for Highever.

**~.~.~.~**

**Next Chapter: Elissa**


	3. Elissa

**Elissa**

_"In dreams the maiden heard,_

_'When the red rose blossoms,_

_The white rose will fade',_

_And the more she thought_

_She'd be safe and warm,_

_The colder the night became…"  
_

"Who taught you that? I certainly don't recall singing for you," Bryce said.

Elissa giggled and shook her head. Her auburn curls glistened in the sun, and her sparkling blue eyes flashed a mischievous smile.

"Oh, so you're not going to tell me, huh?" Bryce crept closer to his sister, who shrieked and ran away. He caught up with her in a matter of seconds and picked her up, swinging her around. Elissa laughed and shook her legs frantically. She loved it when Bryce chased after her. She loved him more than anything in the world, even more than her griffin doll, Dagda.

He was 18 and she was 7. Bryce had kept his promise and he had even gone beyond duty: after Nerianna's death, Cenric had started undertaking military duties around Highever and other parts of Ferelden, barely seeing his children. Bryce thought that his father blamed Elissa for her mother's death, and he could not help thinking that everything had been a little too convenient for Cenric – instead of taking care of his children, he had delegated that responsibility to his servants and his son.

The servants were always kind to Bryce, although he knew what they whispered behind his back: he was almost an adult, and yet he had no life experience as befitted the son of a Teyrn, either in war or women. Even his friend Leo had had the _pleasure_of enjoying the company of fine ladies. But Bryce did not care for those things. He knew that sooner or later, his little sister would be old enough to be a debutante, and when that happened, there would be balls and banquets and all kinds of social events. Perhaps, after that, it would be easier for him to pick a wife. It was only a matter of time.

The previous years had gone by in a blur. Sometimes he could not believe that nothing significant had happened, unless one counted the murder of the Rebel Queen and the conflict with their neighbours as something relevant. Cenric had kept Bryce away from the battle where many good men Bryce knew had died. But the old Arl of Amaranthine was dead, and his son had taken possession of the land and allied with Maric Theirin, and his new political associations had landed him a fortunate marriage to a rich lady, which had given him the funds to protect the Arling.

"I tell you, Bryce," said Leo, while munching on some grapes, "I've never seen newlyweds more miserable than this Howe guy and his 'lovely' bride. He looked constipated and she looked as if she was constantly smelling a pile of dung."

Bryce laughed and shook his head.

"And you, my friend, were sorely missed. The one good thing about going to this type of social gatherings is the number of young females that you can find there. Servants, maidens; take your pick."

"I'm not sure the Howes would have wanted _me_ there, you know?"

"I don't see why not. There were people from Highever there. And besides, Rendon Howe was more than eager to make new friends, after all the trouble with his father."

"I couldn't leave Elissa alone – she was sick."

"Well, _excuse me_, but I do believe the girl has a father? One that should actually be encouraging his eligible son to find a lady with whom he could fu—" Bryce gave him a dirty look and pointed at Elissa, who was dancing and picking flowers near them.

Leonas shrugged. "Ah well… More young ladies for me, then."

Elissa hopped towards her brother, gave him a daisy and a kiss on the nose, and ran away. Bryce looked at the flower very seriously.

"It's not that I'm not interested. It's just… I don't know. Sometimes I feel as if I had all the time in the world. I know Elissa isn't my child, but the way my father acts… He always talked about being responsible, of doing what must be done. I guess he never listened to himself. And I can't just leave her alone."

"So… No curling females' toes?"

"Leo! There's a child around!"

"Meh, she's far away." Leonas smirked. "Not even with a maid, the nanny…?"

"What? No!"

"So… You just polish the sword?"

"Alright, this conversation is over."

"Bah! Spoilsport."

Bryce sighed. Having someone to… _mate_with was not everything there was in the world. Family was important too.

He looked around for Elissa, but she was nowhere in sight.

"Lissie?" He called out. There was no reply. He got on his feet and called again, "Lisa?"

"She can't be that far." Leonas stood up, protecting his eyes from the sun. "Elissa! I'll take your brother to my castle far, far away if you don't come back now!"

"What are you doing?"

"I figured if she was around, she'd come out and tell me off as usual. Elissa!"

"Elissa!"

Bryce climbed a rock formation in order to get a good look of the coastal meadow. She could not have gone far away, unless she had gone into the sea. Both men ran along the shore, hollering her name.

"Look here!" Leonas shouted. It was Dagda, Elissa's griffin doll, abandoned by the sea.

Suddenly Bryce spotted her figure in the distance, down on her knees. They ran towards her and, as they got near, they saw the rats. Big water rats, surrounding her.

Bryce started to shout something, but the cry died in his lips. Elissa was covered in blood, but it was not hers.

"_Dear Maker,_" he heard Leonas whisper.

There were at least twenty rats around her that were paralyzed. She turned around to look at the men, and blankly said, "They wanted to eat me."

Her chest was covered in blood, hair, and tripe; strange goo dripped from the tips of her curls. She was kneeling in a red pool of _chunks_.

Bryce approached her carefully and called her name softly. She stared at him and he felt the temperature drop abruptly. Her eyes were ice blue, and they gave off a freezing vibe that made his hair stand on end. Leonas moved behind them, and Elissa fixed her gaze on him instead. Bryce saw his friend standing still, entranced by the look in the girl's eyes.

Bryce took a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully cleaned Elissa's chin and neck. She looked back at him and saw the gentle look in his face. As if she was coming out of a dream, she reacted to his touch and let out a little sob. He hugged her and picked her up. He carried her all the way back to the castle, followed by his friend.

* * *

They were having some wine in the study room next to Elissa's bedroom. She was sleeping and Nanny was watching her. She had started to ask Bryce about the blood in her clothes, but the look in his eyes had made her reconsider the idea. Bryce had instructed her to call him if anything happened to the girl.

Leonas seemed to find the rim of the goblet fascinating, for he did not dare look up to his friend. Bryce was standing near the fireplace, lost in thought.

"I, uh… I don't… Andraste's tits," Leonas cleared his throat. "Is… Was there anyone in your family a…? I mean, that was…"

"Magic," Bryce said blandly.

"Yes. Yes, magic. I… I didn't know that your family had any of them. Mages."

"We don't. Not as far as I know. I should ask the scholar in charge of the history of the family, but maybe…" Bryce bit his lower lip.

"You think… The mother?"

Bryce stirred the fire to a brighter blaze. "There's a possibility, yes."

"So… What's going to happen to her? I mean, you can't keep her here."

"I can try."

"No, listen to me. Today she was gone for a while and… Bryce, you saw what happened!"

"I can protect her."

"No – No, you can't! It's crazy! You don't know what she's capable of!"

"She's a child, Leonas! She was scared!"

"You can't seriously think you can protect her from that – from herself! Come on, Bryce – it's insane. You know it."

Bryce looked away. He did not want to think about it. The Circle of Magi was something that happened to other families, not to his.

"What will your father say?" Leonas asked quietly, and suddenly Bryce felt a pang in the pit of the stomach. His father…

The door was flung open, and there he was. Disheveled, rough, impetuous – and yet, to Bryce, he seemed to have shrunk. That is, until he spoke.

"A word with you, son," Cenric said.

"Glad to see you are still alive, Father!" Bryce's voice quivered, ranging between nervousness and anger. "There is nothing to worry about, I assure you. You can go back to your part of the castle and proceed with your life."

"So help me…" Cenric muttered and dashed towards his son. Bryce stood there, looking at him defiantly, and Cenric gave him a hard slap across the face, which sent Bryce staggering backwards.

"Your Grace!" exclaimed Leonas. He looked at the two Couslands, who barely acknowledged his presence.

"Leave us, Bryland." Cenric's voice was contained but dangerously low.

Leonas looked at Bryce and, after a moment's hesitation, ran out of the room.

"Why do I have to hear from the servants that your sister was covered in blood?"

"My sister? Oh, you must be talking about your daughter!"

"Do not toy with me, Bryce!" Cenric's voice boomed.

"Why, I would not dream of it, Father!"

Cenric took his son by the shoulders and shook him. "You will speak, boy!"

The young man remained silent. His father stared at him and then lowered his arms.

"Are you hurt?"

Bryce narrowed his eyes. "Pardon me?"

"Did she hurt you?"

From all the words Bryce had expected to hear from his father, those were probably his last choice. He was about to mention how surprised he was by the fact that his father actually seemed to care about someone other than himself, but he simply said, "No."

Cenric sighed heavily. "Is she…? Does she have magic?" He spat the word, as if pronouncing it would turn him into a mage.

"Yes," Bryce said quietly.

Cenric rubbed his temples and went silent. Bryce poured a glass of wine for him. His father nodded and sat down.

"The Circle must know about this," he said after a while.

"There is no need for that, I can take car—."

"Bryce," his father said tiredly, "not even you will be able to control her if a demon finds her. And I will be damned if I put you or anybody else in this castle at risk."

"Why?"

"Hm?"

"Why do you hate her?"

"I do not know why."

"Wow, that was… frank indeed," Bryce snorted.

Cenric shrugged. "What can I say? Do you want me to tell you that I hate her because I think Nerianna died for her? Perhaps. I am not proud of my actions, Bryce, but I figured that an absent father was better for her than a spiteful one." Cenric leaned back in his seat. "I have spent my whole life trying to understand people. I deal with people. Business, war, I can handle that. Something more personal, I am not so sure."

Bryce sat next to his father, nodding almost imperceptibly.

"That girl… She has a right to have a life where she can be herself. And so do you. I should never have forced you to take care of her."

"Nobody forced me. I love her. She is my sister."

"I know. I am glad that you have had each other for some years, at least."

Bryce felt a lump growing at the back of his throat. "So…" he mumbled.

"I will send word to the Circle," his father said.

"Right…"

The two men sat together, side by side, in silence.

* * *

The Templars came a few days later. Bryce accompanied Elissa up to the docks of Lake Calenhad.

"Will you come to visit me?" she asked timidly.

"I will, dear. I'm sure First Enchanter Remille himself will be your teacher, and he'll tell me when I can come."

"What if…? What if I feel lonely? What if I'm not good enough and he doesn't want to teach me?"

"Nonsense! You are a Cousland, my dear. You will excel, you'll see. And if your magic fails, you can always enchant them with your Remigold."

"M'lord?" One of the Templars was waiting.

Elissa's lips quivered when her brother squeezed her. "Now, now," he said, "Be a good girl, yes?"

She nodded and took the Templar's hand. He helped her get on the boat. Elissa held her griffin doll close to her heart, and looked back until Bryce disappeared in the mist by the lake.

**~.~.~.~**

**Next Chapter: Eleanor**


	4. Eleanor

**Eleanor**

Bryce crouched behind an abandoned cart. He counted backwards to make sure he got there at the same time as Rendon. It was not their first battle together –he could anticipate Rendon's moves as if they were his own–, and with every day that went by, with every battle fought, he felt that they were getting closer to a closure.

He saw the small company coming over and got ready.

"3 blades, 2 blades, 1 blade, now."

He jumped behind the captain's personal guard and stabbed him about the back. His right hand held the hilt of his dagger as he swiftly cut the second guard's throat, and used that impulse to do the same with his left hand to the next soldier. Pushing the dead body backwards, he barely had time to duck and cover to evade a soldier's swing at his head.

Suddenly the soldier made a gurgling noise and fell on his knees. Bryce saw Rendon smirk as he removed the blade.

_"Arrêtez-le!"  
_

Leonas was kneeling behind them and the captain of the guard was holding a knife to his throat.

"You… You Fereldans, always playing dirty…"

"Oh, you don't know how dirty we can get," Rendon sniggered. "Perhaps you would like a sample, Orlesian?"

"Stand back! I'll kill your friend if you move, dog!"

"Oh, is that so?" Rendon took a step towards the captain.

"You will not—! Wait… Where's the other?"

Bryce sank his two daggers in the captain's back until the man went silent. Leonas got on his feet and sighed heavily.

"You're welcome, Bryland." Rendon's patted Leonas on the chest and stepped on the captain's body. "Next time, try to remember_you_ are the warrior."

"Sure thing, Rendon… Bloody Orlesians," he spat.

"Guys!" Bryce called.

The two men went towards Bryce's lookout spot. What they saw made their hearts sink. The remainder of their army had fallen under the strength of the Orlesian ranks. Bryce felt heavy and weary. They had failed.

"Retreat!" They heard their captain's voice in the distance, moments before he was engulfed by a horde of enemies.

"Never," Bryce muttered. His eyes met his friends' and it was decided. They would not go down without a fight.

It all felt a bit surreal. The young men sprinted towards the Orlesians; Leonas's sword going through the ranks, cutting a way open, and Bryce's and Rendon's blades working in a blur, their feet stepping forward, sideways, turning again and again over their pumping legs.

But the Orlesians were too many, and the Fereldans' strength and stamina were beginning to falter. Leonas put his hand over Bryce's shoulder and pointed towards the river – tens of men were jumping into its cold, white waters. Bryce shouted out to Rendon, and the three men escaped from the battlefield.

* * *

"Stay with us for a few more days," Leonas pleaded.

"I need to get back to Highever. My father still doesn't know I'm alive, and if news of the defeat reaches him first…"

"My father's already sent a messenger. Please? You can get to rest, enjoy yourself…"

Bryce turned quickly to face Leonas. "Enjoy myself? We lost—!"

"And there's nothing we can do about it now, is there? We did our best. Our captain had already commanded us to leave! Besides, we've just got good news from the Dane."

"Prince Maric?"

"Loghain and Guerrin. Listen, Bryce. You can't save everybody."

"Sometimes I think I can't save anybody," Bryce muttered.

Leonas sighed. "Is this about your sister again?"

"It's… No, it's nothing. I need some fresh air," he said, and walked out of the room.

"Don't forget we've got a hunting-and-scouting game this afternoon!" Leonas hollered. Bryce waved his hand dismissively without looking back.

* * *

He got separated from the group after Leonas had tried to introduce him several times to his cousin and other ladies. Rendon had asked him to stay for a few more days as well. He obviously did not want to return to Amaranthine. Bryce thought that Rendon had changed. He could see that, behind his dry sense of humour, Rendon seemed to be a little resentful of Leonas. He was not really interested in finding out why.

He heard swift steps and the rustle of fabric on the grass. Girls, or young women. Possibly four or five of them. He frowned. Was he actually thinking of them as if he was assessing the enemy? Maybe Leonas was right after all, and he needed—

He jumped back just in time to avoid the arrow. He looked round, bewildered.

"Quick reflexes. Nice." A woman's voice, coming from… a tree?

Bryce took a few steps towards the tree, but stopped when he heard the sound of the bow string tensing.

"I'm no Orlesian and neither are you, as far as I could hear," Bryce said. "Why would you attack me?"

"You don't need to be Orlesian to attack me. You're a man. That's just as bad."

Bryce arched an eyebrow. "Well… Not all men are the same."

"True. But a girl can't take risks all alone in the middle of a forest, right?"

"You're not alone. I've just heard there's a party of women near here."

"Are you sure about that? Damn it…"

Bryce's lips curved in a little smile. "I take it you're not thrilled by their presence either?"

"They've been trying to push me into meeting some sort of fancy lord."

"Ah yes… I know the feeling." Bryce toed some leaves pensively. After a while, he heard the woman clear her throat discreetly.

"So… You're a bit of a rogue, aren't you?"

Bryce chuckled. "I'm not sure what you mean, but whatever suits you, milady."

"I mean… You seem to be agile. You've heard the women, and they're obviously not very near, because they'd be here as soon as they heard out little chat. So… A scout, perhaps?"

"I'm Bryce. The rest is circumstantial, I guess."

"Then, Bryce, I must ask something of you. Can you help me get down?"

"Excuse me?"

The woman sighed. "I got on the tree to escape from my group, but I'm afraid I'm poorly dressed for such activities."

Bryce approached the tree and looked up. He saw long streams of chestnut hair framing a face with the greenest eyes he had ever seen. The woman was smiling embarrassedly.

"I… Of course," he said, trying to sound confident. "First, put that bow away; you'll need both hands to grab onto the branches." The woman struggled with her hair and the bow for a while and then said, "Ready."

"Alright… See that knot? Hold on tightly to the lowest branch and put your left foot on that knot. Press inwards, so that you won't slip. Good. Now, let go of the other branch you're holding and hold onto that smaller one. Let go… What's wrong?"

The woman's mouth was contorted, a grimace of panic covering her face.

"I… I feel something… Crawling down my hair," she managed to articulate.

Bryce peered through the leaves. "Oh, don't worry, it's only a little spid—" But the word died in his lips, because the woman started shrieking and, in her distress, she let go of the branches. Bryce moved swiftly and caught her, breaking the fall. She kept screaming and shaking her head, and once her feet were on the ground, she started skipping around.

"Look, look! It's just a little spider," he laughed, and took it between his fingers very gently, before putting it back on the tree.

"What are you doing?! Killit, killit, killit!"

"It's harmless!"

"It's disgusting! Ugh! I can take anything, except for sp— Argh!"

"Shush!" Bryce covered her mouth. She opened her eyes wide and stood still. "I thought you didn't want them to find you," he whispered. He withdrew his hand and she simply said, "Eleanor."

Bryce smiled, "Nice to meet you, Eleanor. I hope you weren't hurt in the fall?"

"No, I'm fine. Just… Thank you," she smiled and shook his hand.

For a moment they stood there, holding each other's hand and smiling. The sun was setting and in that light, Eleanor looked… something.

"Um…" Bryce did not know what to say. He passed a hand through his hair and suddenly found something to say. "We should do something about your hair. Maybe braid it?"

"My hair? Oh! I suppose it must look like a mess," she giggled nervously.

"I can do it. I used to do it for my sister." He stood behind her and parted her hair. His swift fingers combed and divided it. Eleanor trembled.

"Are you cold?" His voice was deep, low and kind.

"Far from that," she answered without thinking. "Oh! I meant…!" She bit her lips and shut her eyes tight.

Bryce chuckled and said nothing. Soon after, he had finished braiding her hair. She took her quiver and bow and put them on. "Well," she said, trying to keep her voice cool. "Thank you for everything, Bryce." She reached out to shake his hand and found herself lost in his blue eyes. He took her hand between his, and he nodded silently. She turned around and ran away, into the forest.

* * *

"Bryce, there's someone I want you to meet," said Leonas, holding him by the arm.

"Another someone?" Bryce laughed. He was in good spirits and feeling a little amused by Leonas's unrelenting perseverance.

"It's the daughter of Ser Matthias, a good friend of my father's."

Bryce rolled his eyes and suddenly he saw her. She had cleaned up nicely, and her hair had been braided more neatly, but in the same way Bryce had braided it for her.

"Eleanor, I'd like you to meet a good friend of mine, Bryce Cousland."

"Cousland? From Highever?" She looked at him, surprised and amused, as she extended her hand. Bryce held it, softly and firmly, and pressed his lips to her little sapphire ring.

"You can call me Bryce," he said. She lowered her eyes and smiled.

They were married a month later.

**~.~.~.~**

**Next Chapter: The Couslands**


	5. The Couslands

**The Couslands**

When his grandfather died, Fergus started asking lots of questions about it. Where exactly Grandpa had gone, why so many people had attended the funeral, what 'death' was and why it happened. Eleanor and Bryce were in two minds about answering the last question, because they had seen so much of it in the previous years that they could no longer define it.

After Maric had been crowned king, Bryce and Eleanor had sworn to serve him as best as they could. Both had actively participated in the final stage of the Fereldan uprise, and when things had settled down, Fergus was born.

Cenric was delighted with his grandson. Bryce thought it had to do with the fact that the firstborn had been a boy, and perhaps Cenric had seen Fergus as having a second chance with Bryce. For five years, the old Teyrn found a joy in family life that he had never expected to have. He had found a daughter in Eleanor, and he had finally seen his son as a man he could be proud of.

"You will understand, Bryce, that our previous arrangement is cancelled unless something happens to Cailan," Teyrn Loghain said tactfully. He had come to attend the funeral in Maric's name.

"Of course," Bryce replied calmly. "But to be honest, I think it's too early to think of a marriage when neither of them has learnt to ride a horse properly."

"My daughter has."

"She has? Wow. Eleanor wanted to wait until Fergus was seven at—" He cleared his throat. "But that's not the point. They're only six and five years of age."

"And they are heirs to the most important unified lands this nation has," Loghain said firmly. "We are the only ones who can keep the Bannorn at bay, Bryce."

"I wasn't aware we had to watch them. They're loyal to the king."

"Perhaps. But I won't forget the fact that many of them made things somewhat difficult along the way."

He drank the rest of the wine and gave the goblet to Bryce to be refilled. Once he had it back in his hands, he resumed his argument.

"I know my family does not come from a long, noble line…"

"Oh, neither does mine," Bryce said promptly.

"… But Maric thought me capable enough to be in charge of Gwaren, and I'll do my best to preserve my lands, as I have till this day. That means I have to think ahead. I know Anora is the daughter of little more than a Freeman, but I intend to give her something more stable, more lasting than a piece of land. I want her to have a name. Both Maric and I feel that there will be greatness in their union."

"But… Cailan is two—"

"—and already has a name, and a history." Loghain looked away. "Perhaps, when you have a daughter, you will understand how important it is to provide for her future. But I can only get so far. The rest will be up to her."

"What if she's not interested in marrying Cailan?"

"Why wouldn't she?"

"He's much younger, and maybe her heart will choose someone else for her?"

Loghain sighed. "What does the heart have to do with this? You'd be surprised to know how many unions are made in the name of 'love' and how disastrous they turn out to be. I'm proud of how discerning my daughter is, even at her short age. Anora will not be just my daughter. She will do great things with her head, not her heart." There was fire and determination in his voice.

Bryce looked at the tall man across from the table. There was a story there, he could sense it. Perhaps he would ask Leonas about it.

* * *

"Darling, I'm very tired. Could you ask Nanny to play with you?"

"But Muuuum! We never have fun together anymore! I hate that baby!"

"Don't say that, dear. The baby will hear you and when he comes out, he will cry and prevent you from sleeping for months."

"I don't think I'll hear him from my room."

"Then I'll make you share your bedroom with him."

"You can't. I'm eight years old, and he's… a baby."

"Are you sure I can't?"

Fergus blinked. Eleanor stared at him very seriously.

"Go and find Nanny, will you? Run along."

"Yes, mother," said the boy, hardly hiding his disappointment.

Eleanor sat on a bench and leaned against the cold stone wall. She closed her eyes and put a hand over her huge belly. She was already thirty-three years old, but felt much, much older. Perhaps it had been the failed pregnancies after Fergus, or the fact that the heavy weight she was carrying had forced her into a calmer pace. She rubbed her belly and patted it softly. She felt the baby moving inside her, twisting and turning, more and more as time went by. It was the end of Bloomingtide; she would be due soon.

She felt the warm breeze caressing her cheeks and smiled. The breeze played with a tuft of hair that had come loose, granting her a little respite from the heat of the summer. She heard familiar steps on the stone and opened her eyes. Bryce was looking at her, lovingly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired. Hot. Mostly tired, though. Fergus wanted us to play with swords again." Bryce sat next to her and she leaned on him. "Did I mention how tired I feel?"

"Possibly a hundred times today, a thousand times in the last seven days, and so on."

"One day, men should try the glorious sensation of carrying babies for a change. At least swords don't move around and kick you from the inside."

"That… is a very strange thing to say, my dear."

"And yet it's true."

"I don't doubt it," he said, kissing her right cheek. "I can give you a backrub later, if you want…"

"Oh no. Considering this is where your backrubs end," she pointed to her belly, "I think I'll pass, thank you."

"It can't get any worse, my love," he chuckled and pressed her hand to his lips. Suddenly she flinched, punching him in the face. "Alright, alright! I got the point!" Bryce mumbled, rubbing his nose. Eleanor dug her fingernails in his thigh and arched her back. "My dear! Such passion! I'm confused; do you want to do—oh! Oh, oh, it's the baby! Wait here, I'll get Nanny!"

"Get the physician," she said thinly.

"Nanny!" Bryce cried.

"The physician!" Eleanor shouted, as he was leaving.

Eleanor tried to stand but felt as if her legs were someone else's. Bryce had disappeared, but she could hear him shouting. Brother Aldous came first, followed promptly by Mother Morana, Nanny, Bryce, Fergus, two guards and a stable boy.

"The physician!" Eleanor roared.

They all cried, "The physician! The physician!" and ran away. Eleanor rolled her eyes.

Bryce rushed back to her side, picked her up, and took her to their chambers.

"We'll be fine, Ellie, we'll be fine."

"I know, Bryce," she smiled.

"We'll be fine."

"I know, darling."

"Everything will be fine."

"BRYCE."

"I know, no more talking."

As soon as he had left her on the bed, Nanny shooed him away. He left the room but stayed outside, holding Fergus's hand. They could hear her screaming in pain, and the physician's soothing voice, asking her to calm down.

"Andraste's flaming ass!" she shouted, and Bryce covered Fergus's ears.

"I heard that!" the boy grinned.

"Don't say it in front of her; she'll have our skin for that!"

"Wraaaaaaaaaaaaugh!" Eleanor cried from within the room. Fergus opened his eyes in terror and Bryce nodded seriously.

* * *

And then they heard it. A soft cry, like a kitten's. Mother Morana came out of the room and said, "It's a boy, Your Grace! A beautiful baby boy!"

Bryce dashed into the room and looked for Eleanor's face, but instead of the relaxed expression he was expecting in it, he saw it awfully contorted.

"Eleanor!" He grabbed her hand and cupped her face with his left hand. "Doctor! What's—?"

A second child had appeared, out of nowhere, bawling. Everybody's faces went blank.

"It's… It's a girl, milord," the physician said.

Bryce gaped at the sight of the baby. Nanny was already wrapping her in a cloth so that she could clean her before giving her to Eleanor. But Bryce walked up to his baby girl and held her against his chest. The baby stopped crying and grabbed onto his clothes with her tiny hand.

He turned around to see Eleanor, who was already holding the other baby, and Fergus was watching them from afar, still in awe.

"Come here, my boy! You've got a brother and a sister!" Bryce was beaming when she left the girl in Eleanor's arms. He caressed the boy's forehead softly, and the boy closed his eyes peacefully.

Eleanor's face was sweet and radiant. There was a light in her eyes that matched Bryce's, and he knew that everything would be fine.

* * *

Some days later, once the babies had been groomed, and Eleanor had fully rested, they sat down to discuss what to name them.

"What's this on their wrists?" Fergus asked.

Bryce went over to him to see what he was talking about. Upon inspection, he found that the twins had a small mole on the inner part of the wrist; in the boy, the mole was white, and in the girl, it was black.

"It's as if she took some of the colour that was his," Fergus said.

"I'm sure there's nothing wrong with it, son. I have a mark like this in my back, and you have one behind your ear."

"I do not," said Fergus.

"Oh, you sure do. Oh wait, it's a copper," Bryce said, producing a coin from behind Fergus's ear.

Fergus took the coin and with his left hand, he searched behind his ear for more coins.

Bryce held the baby boy and took him back to Eleanor's side, where she was waiting to breast-feed him. She simply said, "Gwyn."

"What's that, my love?"

"His mark is white. We should call him Gwyn."

"That's not a warrior's name," Fergus pointed out.

"Perhaps he won't want to be a warrior," Bryce smiled. "What do you think, Gwyn?"

The baby closed his eyes peacefully as he found his mother's nipple.

"Definitely no warrior," Eleanor giggled. "A lover, not a fighter."

"Mum!" Fergus covered his eyes and shuddered.

When Bryce held his daughter, she looked at him, eyes wide open. Bryce poked her nose and she opened her mouth. He put his finger in her mouth and the girl sucked on it. When she realized she would get nothing out of it, she frowned and started crying, shaking her little arms around.

"Ooh, this one's feisty," Bryce chuckled. He walked around the room rocking her gently until she had calmed down.

"I think that she could have a name that has already been used in this family," Eleanor said tentatively.

"I agree," Bryce said.

"Nerianna," Eleanor said.

"Really? I was thinking Elissa."

"Darling, that's your sister's name. Nobody deserves to have their name usurped, at least while they're alive. One of my cousins is called Eleanor. I never feel special at family meetings." She shook her head sadly.

"What about Nerissa?" Fergus said distractedly.

"Oh?"

"Well…" He touched the girl's feet. "Nerianna and Elissa. It's a combination of two nice names, and yet, it's a different one. That way, she won't be compared to anyone else."

The girl shook her feet and Fergus kissed them. Bryce looked at the girl and he thought that a combination of two things and yet something completely new was exactly what she was. She had hair the colour of Bryce's, and Eleanor's eyes.

"Nerissa it is, then," he nodded.

"Gwyn and Nerissa," Eleanor sighed happily. "Fergus, darling, can you call Mother Morana? She needs to inscribe the names in the Cousland register…"

"Must I go?" Fergus complained.

Bryce looked back on the night he had met his sister, and he thought how different everything was. This was a real family, and he knew that, whatever happened in the future, they would protect each other, sharing laughter and tears, learning and growing together.

* * *

The Templars arrived one morning of Cloudreach, a month before the first birthday of the twins. Bryce received them in his study room.

"Milord, there is no easy way to say this…"

"Something happened to my sister?"

"It goes beyond that, Your Grace. The Circle has fallen. By order of King Maric, we are not allowed to discuss the matter further, but you must know that your sister was made Tranquil."

Bryce sat down slowly. "But… She had passed her Harrowing, three years ago! I received a note from First Enchanter Remille himself!"

"Yes, Milord."

"Then she can't be a… It's not right!"

"Yes, Milord, we understand. But the Right of Annulment had to be invoked."

Bryce's eyes opened wide. "I… I don't understand. Shouldn't she be dead, then?"

The Templar shifted uncomfortably. "It is… complicated. Prior to taking over his position, the new First Enchanter requested that some of the mages were left behind to… facilitate the reconstruction of the Circle."

Bryce looked at both men, still confused. The first Templar took a box out of his pack and slid it over the table towards Bryce. "These are your sister's possessions. She will no longer need them. And this is a letter from First Enchanter Irving himself." The two men stood up, bowed and exited the room.

Bryce stared at the box silently. He reached out to touch it, but he failed to do so. The memory of a smiling little girl flashed before his eyes, and the tears came to him. He hid his face in his hands and cried.

* * *

After a while, he went to find Eleanor. She was in the children's room, holding Gwyn by the hands and trying to teach him to walk. As soon as he entered the room, Nerissa crawled up to him, grabbing on to his legs and standing up. Bryce picked her up and hugged her tightly.

"Is everything alright?" Eleanor asked.

Bryce did not answer. He held on to his daughter and closed his eyes, hoping to find a little solace in a world that he did not always understand.

**~.~.~.~**

**Next Chapter: Oriana**


	6. Oriana

**Oriana**

"Must you always be so difficult?"

"Is this about Mother's family reunion again?"

"Would it hurt you so much to accompany her just once?"

"Those meetings are boring, brother."

"I _swear_…" Fergus muttered.

"What?" Nerissa yawned. She was lying on the floor, resting her head on Gwyn's lap.

"I don't know how you get away with this behaviour. If you were my child—"

"But I'm not your child, brother. Tell him, Gwyn."

"Hmm," Gwyn grunted. He had been trying to finish a story and since his siblings would not leave him alone, he was finding it hard to make progress.

Fergus knelt beside her. She stared at him and pursed her lips. He poked her between the eyes repeatedly.

"Ow! That's not helping!"

"Listen, monkey: if Mum wants you to go with her to South Reach, you go with her to South Reach. Is that clear?"

"What's this?" A voice said behind them.

Nerissa got quickly on her feet and ran towards her father.

"Daddy, Fergus wants me to go with Mum to South Reach. Please, _please,_ don't make me go!" She buried her face in Bryce's neck and nuzzled.

"Oh, Pup, don't do this to me. You know I can't argue with your mother this time…"

"But you're not going! Fergus and Gwyn are not going either! I'll be all alone!"

"You'll have Mum, and there will be lots of other girls at the wedding as well."

"I hate weddings! All the women there will be dressing up and dressing their girls like dolls! Daddy, I'm not a doll – I don't want to be a girl! Boys always have all the fun!"

"Maybe that's the way you feel now, but I'm sure one day—" Bryce looked at his daughter. She was pouting and looking up to him teary-eyed. "Maker, Nerissa… Don't make this more difficult, yes? It's just for a week. Do it for me."

Nerissa lowered her head and her hair covered her face like a veil. "Yes, father," she mumbled. "Can Gwyn come with us?" She grinned at her twin brother.

Gwyn looked at his sister tiredly. Sometimes he thought he would never get to know if the Black Fox had been captured or if he had managed to escape from the clutches of the evil Arl that—

"Gwyn, what do you say?" Bryce asked.

"If it means I'll be able to finish my stories, sure; I'll do it," he answered.

"Then, it's settled. You, Gwyn, and Mum."

"I thought Arl Leonas was your friend. Why don't you come with us to visit him?"

"Arl Leonas will be here shortly, in fact. He said something about 'too many women together' and how he needed a little vacation. We will get there in time for the wedding, though."

"I understand him," Nerissa said, shaking her head.

"But at least you'll see Delilah."

"What?" Gwyn stood up and went to his father's side. "Do you mean…? Father, please tell me Arl Howe won't be there!"

"No, Arl Howe will be here as well."

"Oh, good. The last time he came here, he implied I might marry Delilah one day. I said nothing, but she's just too young for me. She's practically a baby."

"She's only four years younger than you are, Gwyn. But no, you don't have to marry her or anybody else if you don't want to marry."

"I don't think I'll ever marry, dad," Nerissa said, hugging her father.

"Me neither," Gwyn muttered.

Bryce stared at Fergus.

"What," Fergus said, looking down.

"Is this your influence?"

"My inf—? No, no. No! I _may_ have said there's nobody I'm interested in, but I never said I wouldn't get married."

"Poor girl, the one who marries you," Nerissa said.

"She'll have to put up with his fighting training all day long," Gwyn added.

"Swords, shields, weapons, armour!"

"Training, strength, swing, blow!"

"I pity the poor souls who marry you two monkeys," Fergus replied, a bit piqued by their comments. Nerissa and Gwyn stuck their tongues out at him.

* * *

"Eleanor, darling, I thought Bryce would be coming with you?"

"Not for the moment, Aunt Margaret. He had some important things to deal with back at Highever," Eleanor said, kissing her aunt's cheeks. Nerissa and Gwyn sniggered behind her. She gave them a stern look. "He'll be here with Arl Bryland and Arl Howe. I believe you haven't met my twins? This is Gwyn, and this is Nerissa."

"Oh, look at her, already a little lady! How old are you, Nerissa?"

"I'm ten years old, madam," Nerissa replied politely.

"And you, young man?"

Gwyn raised an eyebrow. "I'm… ten years old as well."

"What a coincidence," Margaret said distractedly. "We'll have to find you something to do. I'm sure you'll want to go hunting with the boys."

"That won't be necessary, aunt," Eleanor said, noticing Gwyn's distress over the activities planned for the men. "Brother Aldous has given him plenty of texts to read before the Reckoning."

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's a day in which the skills of the apprentices are tested. Gwyn will start training to become a scholar."

"A Chantry scholar?" Margaret said, confusedly. "But… He's the son of a Teyrn."

"Second son. My brother is the one that likes to play with swords, actually," Gwyn said.

"Oh." Margaret blinked. "Isn't he too young, Eleanor?"

"Gwyn wants to be a historian," Nerissa said. "He admires the works of Brother Genitivi."

"I hope I'll be as good as he is one day," Gwyn said dreamily.

Aunt Margaret looked at the children. They smiled at her.

"Yes, well… I'll take you to your rooms, so that you can change your clothes. Dinner will be served soon."

* * *

The next day, the guests were divided in two groups. The men were sent onto a hunting-and-scouting mission, and Gwyn weaseled out of the activity by means of his short age and a great deal of coddling from Eleanor. Nerissa was not so lucky, however, since she had to accompany her mother to the bridal celebrations. For the next couple of days, Nerissa wove flowers for crowns and bracelets for the bridesmaids, and the bride's Antivan maid taught her how to make lotions from the oils of flowers and spices.

"Don't you miss your family?" Nerissa asked.

"I only have a brother back in Antiva City, and he's much, much older than I am," Oriana said. "I do miss the warm weather, though. Ferelden seems to be quite cold."

"I have an older brother, Fergus. He can be a little hard to swallow sometimes… But he means well. At least that's what daddy says."

Oriana laughed discreetly. "I'm sure your brother means well, milady. All brothers do."

"Oh, no! I'm not 'milady', that's my mother!"

"You are the daughter of a Teyrn. If I were to address your mother, I'd call her 'Your Ladyship' – But I assume from the look in your face that you didn't know this?"

"I… Perhaps I knew this," Nerissa frowned. "I don't always listen to Nanny. She's very good to us, but sometimes she treats us like children."

"You and your brother are still young, but maybe it is time for you to have a lady-in-waiting."

Nerissa gasped. "You could be that lady!"

"No, milady. I believe someone of importance is in order here. Perhaps the daughter of a Bann or an Arl?"

"I have no idea what you're saying, but we Couslands don't pay that much attention to names and such," Nerissa said rather proudly. "In fact, Fergus sometimes takes us to shop from the stalls in Highever, and we've got dear friends there. I don't need a—"

"Darling?" Eleanor called. "It's time to fit the clothes. Come with me, please."

"But—"

"If Your Ladyship allows it, I will accompany your daughter," Oriana said warmly.

"That's very sweet, Oriana, but I wouldn't want you to be distracted from your duties."

"It is no inconvenience, milady. Mistress Nerissa wanted to know about Antiva, and I was telling her about the city."

"Yes, mother; can Oriana come with us? Please?"

"Well, I don't see why not." Eleanor smiled at the young woman. "You're welcome to join us."

When they got to the room, the women had already started displaying their dresses. The girls would be dressed in white, simple and pure; the maidens in red, and the married women in purple. Nerissa caught a glimpse of the bride, clothed in gold and silver, and thought she looked tiny and miserable in spite of the celebrations.

"She's barely a child!" Nerissa whispered to Oriana.

"She's sixteen years of age. She's lucky to have been chosen by the Arl's brother."

"Lucky? The Arl's brother is only a little younger than my dad. She could be his daughter!"

"And yet Arl Bryland doesn't have a son. When he dies, his brother will inherit the title, and she'll be an Arlessa. It's politics, or tradition."

"I'm so glad my father has Fergus, then. And Gwyn. I won't be forced into a marriage," Nerissa stated.

Oriana patted her head softly and pushed her towards Eleanor, who was waiting for her. Nerissa was dressed in a white summer dress, with long sleeves and an open neckline. Her boots were low and comfortable. It felt strange. She was used to wearing shorter dresses. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she was pleasantly surprised by her looks. So was Eleanor, who stood behind her and hugged her. "My little girl," she whispered. "You might not be the prettiest, but there _is_something about you."

Nerissa was about to reply when she spotted Gwyn looking at her from a distance. He had poked his head into the room quietly, so as not to be caught by the women.

"Mother, Gwyn's calling me."

"Wait! Change your clothes before going!"

"It'll only be a while, I'm sure!"

"Nerissa, those are wedding clothes – if you ruin them—" Eleanor raised a finger.

"I won't, I promise!" Nerissa said over her shoulder. She ran outside, where her brother was waiting for her.

"I finished reading the Chronicles of Ser Clementis, and guess what? It is said that before disappearing, he hid a cache of great treasure in this area!"

"Oh Gwyn, that's just a story—"

"No! I swear, Neria! It's written right here, in the story!"

"Gwynny…" Nerissa put her hands on her brother's shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "Do you think they'd write it in a story that many people would read? And don't you think that if that was true, the treasure would be long gone by now?"

"You don't understand – it's not explicitly said." He took her by the hand and dragged her behind him.

"Where are we going? Mum wants me to change my clothes if—"

"I'll show you what I saw, and then you can tell me if it's crazy. You don't need to change; we'll just be going to the top floor."

Gwyn and Nerissa climbed stairs until they got to the upmost point in the mansion.

"There," Gwyn pointed out towards a not-so-distant river.

"I don't see anything," Nerissa mumbled.

"Look at this," he said, showing her his notes. Nerissa read, _"… From the light-coloured water path… Past the three deaths of nature… Right before the earliest tomb for light… Seek not under the ground, but into the body of the old mother…"_

"Well?" Gwyn asked eagerly. Nerissa stared at him silently. Gwyn sighed heavily, stood behind her and pointed towards the river. "White River," he said; then he guided her hand and pointed at the trees, "Box, Elm, Yew – all planted well away from the house, all related to death. And behind them, the low Cuildon hill, the only one in the area, towards the west, where the sun sets. Don't you see?" He turned her around and held her by the shoulders. "It's not buried – it's hidden in one of the trees! We just have to find the oldest-looking one."

"Gwyn, there are thousands of trees out there! It will take us hours to find it…"

"Please, Ner—Wait… You believe me!" Gwyn beamed.

Nerissa sighed. "I'm not sure about this, but you seem to be, and I'll follow you wherever you go."

Gwyn hugged her and kissed her. "I knew you'd stand by me! We should go before the sun sets."

"No, it's too far away, and we'll never make it before the night. Let's leave tomorrow morning, very early."

"Fair enough. Don't tell Mother about this, will you?"

Nerissa smiled. "Not a word, brother."

* * *

That night, Eleanor perceived something was amiss with her children. Nerissa was unusually quiet and Gwyn was unusually chatty. When confronted, they both denied that something was wrong, but Eleanor knew the look in their eyes.

"I'm so sorry to bother you with this, Oriana," Eleanor said, standing at the door of the bride's chambers. "But I think Nerissa trusts you, and… Let's say that my children have already given me trouble before. The last time I saw them looking like this was last year, when they decided to go for a picnic on their own, and Arl Howe found them in his lands. And believe me, Amaranthine is further away from Highever than you think."

Oriana hid her surprise. "Of course, Your Ladyship. I will spend the day with them tomorrow."

"Thank you," Eleanor said warmly. Oriana smiled and bowed her head, closing the door behind her.

* * *

_"Did you find the treasure? Or did your mother find you before you found it? I still can't believe your sister played along. I always thought girls looked down on those things. She must love you dearly."_

_There was a longing in his voice that I recognized very well. I said nothing for a while. I had been speaking for some time and was beginning to get tired, but I felt I had to go on, for his sake._

_"Well…" I hesitated. Dared I speak about what had happened after I'd dragged her into my childish quest? There was only one person in my family who knew about it and had promised to keep the secret._

_"Gwyn?" His voice sounded weak and anxious._

_"I'm here. The thing is… Nobody else knows what we encountered there. You'll be the first to know."_

_"From the sound in your voice, I'm not sure I should feel honoured…"_

_"Promise you won't repeat this to anyone?"_

_"I swear."_

_And I knew he meant it._

* * *

"I have the feeling someone's following us."

Gwyn raised his head. "I don't hear anything."

Nerissa shrugged and continued walking. They had set off at the crack of dawn, and now they were going to stop for a short breakfast. They had brought apples and walnuts. Sitting under an elm tree on the verge of a small glade, they rested for a while.

"Do you think we should have brought a pony?"

"What for?"

"To carry the riches!"

"If the treasure fits in a tree, I think we'll manage to take it with us. By the way, I want the jewellery."

"You never wear any. You're just another boy."

"I'll start wearing some, then."

"Really? So, no more climbing trees for you? No more playing in the mud? Or snowball fights?"

Nerissa laughed and put the food back in her pack. "Come on, let's continue."

"And no more tickles?" Gwyn caught Nerissa by the waist and started tickling her. Nerissa squealed and tried to run away, but her foot got stuck in a piece of root that was sticking out and she fell. Gwyn lost balance and fell on top of his sister.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Her eyes were closed tight. He cupped her face with his hand, rubbing her cheek with his thumb. She opened her eyes and looked at him in pain. "What is it?"

"My foot," she groaned.

"Well, well… What have we here?" said a voice behind them.

Gwyn sprang to his feet. A group of men had come into the clearing.

"Havin' a lovin' moment, aren't we?" One of the men sniggered. "Look at this, boys." The man walked towards Nerissa. "Such a sweet little thing…"

"Stay away from her!" Gwyn shouted. Nerissa got to her feet and gave a cry of pain.

"Aw, the baby doesn't want to share – but you see: we don't care. If we like it, we take it."

Nerissa looked around – she thought she saw something moving behind the bushes. She hoped it was an animal. She hoped for a dragon. She hoped the men would get eaten. Her heart was racing, and she felt Gwyn's distress as much as her own.

"Stay back!" Gwyn shouted.

The men laughed. The leader of the group took out a knife and approached the children.

"Give me the girl, kid."

"No," Gwyn muttered. He was starting to feel sick.

"I will not ask again – give us the girl."

"No!" Gwyn shouted. He could feel Nerissa trembling against his body.

"Foolish child," another men said, and he and two other men ran to separate the twins.

"Gwyn!" Nerissa screamed as she was ripped away from her brother's arms. One of the men punched Gwyn in the stomach and square in the face, and sent him flying against a rock. Nerissa was kicking and shouting, but the leader held her tightly, gagged her and tied her hands together behind her back.

"Ah, much better! All that screamin' was gettin' on my nerves… So, sweet thing," he caressed Nerissa's face, wet with tears. "You're very pretty, you know that?" He brushed his fingers against her chest. Nerissa wriggled.

"A little doll, a plaything. Women should be this quiet all the time. After all, they're good for one thing only…" He slipped a hot hand underneath the skirt of her dress. Nerissa closed her eyes and shuddered. The tears continued to flow over her cheeks, burning with shame and disgust.

"There's somethin' movin' behind those bushes," one of the men said.

"Go and deal with that," the leader said. "I'm about to get busy here." He pushed Nerissa to the floor, held her down with one hand and with the other unbuttoned his trousers. Nerissa squirmed, her crying muffled by the dirty cloth in her mouth.

"Enough!" He slapped her across the face and bent down to bite her neck. He quickly positioned over her. Nerissa shook frantically, helplessly…

There was a sound of broken glass, and Nerissa's eyes started to itch. She heard the man shrieking in pain, but she could not see what was going on. The man rolled off her. The other men were shouting as well. She heard a woman's voice.

"Let go of me!" Oriana shouted and spat at her captor.

"Antivan bitch! I'll cut your throat!"

"What's that noise?"

"Dunno… Sounds like… Bees?"

The buzzing became intense. Suddenly, out of thin air, thousands of insects hovered over them, stinging one of the men viciously. His partners backed off, pushing Oriana aside. One of them shouted, "It's the boy!"

Oriana crawled towards Nerissa, untied her and put her arms around her. The girl opened her eyes and through her tears she saw Gwyn. There was a light around him, and however hard the men tried to get to him, they could not get close.

"Stay here," Oriana whispered. She reached out for her pack and took two flasks. She aimed and threw them at the men. The first one failed, but the second one impacted upon them, setting them on fire. The men ran into the forest, leaving their unconscious leader behind.

Nerissa limped towards her brother. Gwyn saw her coming and ran towards her, but the light around him pushed her away. "Sister!" His voice quivered.

Nerissa sobbed and gently pressed her hand against the light. Gwyn reached out for her. Their fingers touched and the light went off. He fell forward and she caught him in her arms. He threw up and coughed. His face had the colour of ashes, but his green eyes were sparkling.

"This… Am I…?"

"Shush… We can talk about it later. Can you walk?"

"I need to rest for a while. I feel exhausted…" His eyes closed briefly but opened up when he heard footsteps coming closer. Oriana walked towards them. She put a hand on Nerissa's shoulder.

"Can _you_ walk? I have some bandages; that should help for the moment."

Oriana let Gwyn rest while she wrapped a strip around Nerissa's foot.

"How did you find us?"

"Your mother told me about Amaranthine last night. I almost missed you, because you set off really early."

"Please, don't tell her about…" Nerissa looked down, her cheeks flushed.

"Oh… Oh, dear – I'm so sorry!" Oriana kissed her forehead. "But you are not to blame, yes? That man—"

"Not about me. About Gwyn."

"You mean… Your parents don't know that he is…?"

"We didn't… This is the first time he's shown…" Nerissa's lips trembled. "If it hadn't been for me… If I had refused to come with him…!"

"I'm the one who's sorry, sister…" Gwyn said, behind Oriana. The sadness in his voice wrung her heart. She took both children by the hands and pressed them gently.

"We'll talk about this later, yes?" The twins nodded. "Just the three of us, I promise. We'll find a quiet way into the house, and everything will be fine."

Gwyn took a fallen branch and gave it to Nerissa to be used as support. She thanked him silently and together, they journeyed back to the house.

* * *

Oriana and Nerissa convinced Eleanor that they had been climbing trees and had fallen off. The look in Eleanor's eyes was reproachful. She thanked Oriana for her assistance and was grateful when she offered to spend the rest of the day with her children.

"Mother?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Can Oriana come with us to Highever?"

Eleanor blinked. "Well, that is unusual. Oriana is at the service of—"

"We know," said Gwyn. "We're asking if there's a chance you can talk to Mariella and persuade her to release Oriana."

Eleanor looked at Oriana quizzically.

"Your Ladyship," Oriana said, "Mistress Nerissa thinks it is time for her to have a lady-in-waiting. I know I may not seem the right choi—"

"Oh, thank the Maker for that! You'd be more than welcome to come with us! I'll go to talk to Mariella right away. Oh, my baby!" She kissed her daughter's cheeks profusely. "I'm so glad for that!" Nerissa smiled at her, but as soon as Eleanor had left the room, she sank into a grave silence.

"Thank you for that," Gwyn said to Oriana, sitting beside his sister.

"Do you think I will like it there?" Oriana asked.

Gwyn and Nerissa looked at each other.

"Well… You'll probably like Highever…" Gwyn started.

"… But if you don't, there might be a way to compensate you for that," Nerissa said slowly.

Oriana did not know how to interpret that.

* * *

The lights were off and the day was over. Gwyn climbed onto the bed and held his sister's hand.

"Will you tell dad about… what happened to you?"

"Nothing happened to me."

"When will we tell them about what happened with me, then?"

"Never," she said. He could not see her expression, but her voice was clear and firm.

"They will find out, sooner or later."

"Later it is, then. I will not lose you the way dad lost his sister."

"You will never lose me, sister. Listen… I'm not saying I want to go to Kinloch Hold, but you must know this: no matter how far we are from each other, I'll always be with you."

"Hm…"

Gwyn expected a reply, but what he got instead was his sister's quiet breathing. She had fallen asleep. He smiled to himself, cuddled against her, and fell asleep as well.

* * *

_"Thank you for the story, Gwyn."_

_"No problem. I have to go now."_

_"Thank you. Really."_

_His voice was weak and melancholic. I felt sorry for him. He depended on me and my friends to feel alive. The following day it would be someone else's turn, but there was something about him that made me want to come back more often than the others. Perhaps it was the kindness he had shown me on that first day… I didn't know, and it didn't matter. At this moment, I was weaving stories for his sake._

_Little did I know that we'd soon be the protagonists of an even greater story that would affect our lives forever._

**_~.~.~.~_**

**Next Chapter: Maric**


	7. Maric

**Maric**

In all truth, we'd never intended for Oriana to be Nerissa's lady-in-waiting. We knew that she was much more than she'd pretended to be, and we also knew that Fergus would like her. We certainly hoped it would be like that, not only because she was a nice person, but because she'd felt like family from the very beginning.

We were right, of course. For the first couple of months, Fergus would keep his distance, casually walking in the women's room and asking the silliest questions. It was hilarious to see him get tongue-tied whenever she was near. The courtyard dummies smiled at the sight of his erring blows whenever she passed by. My parents knew what was going on, but said nothing. And Oriana knew what effect she had on him, but she just lowered her eyes and smiled.

After the spring salon before our eleventh birthday, Fergus announced to my father that he'd be asking for her hand, for which he figured he had to go to Antiva. My father suggested he ask Oriana first how she felt about it, because Antiva was too long a voyage to make for nothing. Oriana said yes, but she said that she'd be writing to her family to inform them of her decision, not to ask them what they thought about it. My parents gave them their blessing, and thus Oriana became officially part of the family.

The wedding attracted a lot of attention from many of the important families of Ferelden. Even the Arl of Redcliffe came to it. I remember thinking how young his wife looked in comparison to him –in spite of her matronly ways and her gigantic belly-, and I pointed it out to Nerissa, who looked at the arl and the arlessa disapprovingly for the rest of the celebrations.

"And she's Orlesian!" I whispered to her.

"I hate her accent," she stated, and went back to her newly-found apathy.

We had to share the bedroom because of the great number of guests that were staying in the castle. The night of the wedding, I got into bed, and she was already lying there. She looked very small when her hair was down. I recall wanting to talk about the events of the day, but she grunted and turned around to sleep.

I lay there silently for a while. We had never referred to the magic incident again. I think we both wanted to pretend that nothing had happened that day. But I was getting tired of not being able to talk to her. She was my twin sister. Her pain had always been my pain, her joy my joy. I didn't like to be left aside, and I told her so.

"Why can't you talk to me anymore? Are you embarrassed? Are you afraid?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Gwyn," she said.

"But we must talk about it. It's been months since that happened, and we've never mentioned it to anyone. Are you so disgusted by my—by what happened with me that you don't want to—?"

She turned around and faced me. "You think this is about you?"

"Well, I'm the one who's been ignored since we came back from South Reach. You have had no trouble talking to Mum or Oriana."

She was very quiet. In the darkness, I wasn't able to see her face, but her voice was very clear when she said, "It's not about you. But I don't want to talk about it."

Part of me was relieved – still, when I reached out to touch her, she recoiled and said, "Good night, brother." I withdrew my hand slowly.

* * *

"I think it would be good for you to travel with dad," she said some weeks later. We were going down for breakfast. "He'll be in Redcliffe for a few days. I heard him saying that to mum last night."

"What? Why's he going to Redcliffe?"

"The arl's son was born and he's bringing a present. And the king will be there as well."

I grabbed her by the arm.

"King Maric? Our king? The stuff of legends?"

"You sound excited," she smiled.

"You don't get the chance to see a king every day! You should come with us!"

"I think I'll pass, thank you."

"Come on, it'll be fun, I promise! Please?"

"No, Gwyn," and she headed into the dining hall and sat by Oriana, who had just returned from Antiva and was regaling my mother with stories of merchants and lovers, princes and assassins.

My father was happy to see that I wanted to go with him, and for the first time in months, I felt better. I packed a few books for the evenings –I'd had trouble sleeping ever since the incident– and I went to look for Nerissa. I saw her walking towards the front of the castle; her steps were hurried, as if she was late for something. She turned around and for some reason I hid behind some plants. She resumed her walk and I followed her carefully. She went into the chapel and closed the door behind her. Going after her right away would be silly, so I waited for a while outside.

When I entered, I saw Nerissa and Mother Mallol talking in hushed voices. Mallol raised her head and called me. Nerissa didn't look back.

"Come here, child. Your sister and I were talking about you."

Nerissa gave her a strange look, excused herself and left the chapel. Mother Mallol took me by the hand and invited me to take a seat. I had avoided that place for months, and she knew it.

"Nanny has told me you haven't been sleeping well, child. Is there something troubling you?"

"I… No. What was Nerissa doing here?"

Mallol smiled gently. "You know that I can't tell you that. Suffice it to say that your sister is in need of a friendly ear and I am more than glad to be that instrument."

"But why has she cast me away? I'm worried about her," I blurted out. "She won't talk to me or spend time with me like we used to… And I don't understand why." I felt a lump growing in my throat and I stopped talking.

"Gwyn… Is there anything you want to tell me?"

I looked at her. Perhaps it was time to say something. Suddenly I felt my mouth dry and dusty. My heart was beating fast under her kind gaze. I knew I had to say it.

"Mother… I can… I could… I mean, I am…"

"Gwyn!" Nerissa shouted behind me. "Father's looking for you! It's urgent!"

I looked at her without really seeing her. My mind was confused. My sister held me by the arm, said something to Mallol and dragged me away.

"What were you thinking? You idiot!" she muttered as soon as we were out from the chapel.

"I…"

"I can't believe it… You were going to tell her!"

"I thought you— I thought she knew, and she was waiting for me to say it!"

Nerissa raised an eyebrow.

"Do you really think I could do that?" Her voice was contained, but there was a certain tinge of fury that scared me.

"I feel I really don't know you anymore," I said. She let go of my arm and stepped back. Her waist-length hair covered most of her face.

"Good," she whispered, and ran away.

* * *

The next day, my father and I set off at dawn. My sister hadn't come down for dinner the night before, and my heart still felt heavy and weary. My father seemed to perceive that, for he tried to cheer me up by telling me stories of the time of the revolution. I played along and asked him many questions that he answered gladly.

We made a stop at a tavern overlooking Lake Calenhad. We had a good view of the lake and Kinloch Hold. I remember thinking that the tower looked beautiful in the sunset, and for a moment I considered telling my father the truth. But my sister's face came to my mind, and I decided against it.

We arrived in Redcliffe the following day. We hardly had time to get changed when we were called for supper. The arl's brother was there, and as soon as I saw him, I thought he was a nice man. He shook my hand, called me "young man" all the time, and told me stories about the Free Marches, from the time he'd lived there. The arlessa looked even prouder than before, if that was possible, and Arl Eamon was beside himself. The baby was a boy, and that was 'the way it was supposed to be'.

After dinner, my father, Arl Eamon, and Lord Teagan retired to the arl's study, and I was free to wander around the house for a while. As I was walking down a corridor, admiring the paintings and writing an account of the journey for my sister, someone ran past me, hitting me on the shoulder and making me drop my diary.

"Come back here, you rascal!" A woman came out of the kitchen, covered in sweat and wielding a rolling pin. She froze when she saw me. "Oh! My apologies!" she said, before going back in.

I stood there, not really knowing what to do, and after a while, I tried to find my way back to my room. While I was going by a room, I heard the arlessa's voice arguing with someone.

"… _inacceptable, mon cher!_ Now that many noble families are visiting us, it's time to look for another place for_ it_; I don't want that filthy thing in my house!"

The voice of a man replied something –I assumed the man was the arl– but I couldn't hear what he said – only her reply, in her very marked Orlesian accent.

"I'm sure he will not want to see it. You have to get it… _him_… out of the house. The Chantry will be more than willing to take an _orphelin_if we make a generous contribution."

"I've told you many times, Isolde," Arl Eamon's voice came out louder, "that I am responsible for that child. And you know why. You can't question me on this."

"But darling! It… _He_ is _insupportable_! The cook is tired of chasing him out of the kitchen! I certainly don't want _that_ near Connor."

Arl Eamon said something that I couldn't hear, but then the arlessa's voice came out softer, like a purr.

"Now Connor and I are your _famille_, Eamon. Your sister is gone, and your brother… Well, he doesn't really matter. This is holding us back. This child is just a stain—"

"My dear, you need to get some rest and it's getting late. They will be arriving tomorrow and there are still many things left to do."

I heard steps getting closer and I ran towards the end of the corridor. I bumped into my father, who had come out to look for me.

"There you are! I was beginning to get worried. Did you see the armory?"

"Er… Yes, of course. You know how much those things interest me…"

"You're right," my father chuckled. "For a moment I thought I was talking to Fergus. Maker, you look so much like him. I can't believe you're all so grown-up…"

I patted him on the arm and bid him good night. It was a stormy night and the rain always made me feel sleepy.

* * *

The next morning the castle felt alive. Servants were running up and down the corridors, polishing armor, dusting chairs, brushing the pack of mabari so that their fur would glisten in the sun. I felt the excitement as well, and went out into the courtyard, hoping to get a glimpse of King Maric when he rode up the hill.

"Ahchoo!"

"Maker bless you!" I said, without thinking.

"Thank you," a boy answered, sniffling.

I looked at him. He was washing up some gardening tools in a barrel. His face and clothes were stained with mud, and the tip of the nose was red, as if he'd caught a cold. He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and then put both hands in the barrel, fishing for the tools.

"Something you need?" he asked. I shook my head and stood there.

"You're the boy from last night! The one who ran away from the cook."

The boy dropped the things. "I… I'm sorry, m'lord. I didn't mean to hit you—"

"Oh, don't worry!" I said, while I helped him pick up the objects. "My name's Gwyn Cousland. And you are?"

"It's Alistair, m'lord." He shook my hand warmly.

"You live here in the castle with your family, Alistair?"

"I… No, m'lord. I'm… I'm just a servant," he blushed and looked away. "But I do live here, yes."

I said nothing further about that for fear I'd embarrass him again. "Say, Alistair – have you seen the king before?" By the look in his face, I knew I'd made the wrong question again. I wished my sister was there – she always knew how to make small talk.

"No, m'lord. King Maric hasn't been here for as far as I can remember."

"So… How old are you?"

"I'll be ten next Harvestmere." He waited for my next question and he looked a bit like an animal that's afraid to make a sudden movement and fall into a trap. After a while, he noticed my diary.

"If I may ask, what are you reading?"

"This? Oh, no, this is not a book. This is just a journal I keep about the things I'm seeing in this journey. It's for my sister to read. I have a twin sister."

"I wish I had a sister. Or a brother."

"I also have an older brother…" The words died as soon as they'd come out. _Shut up, Gwyn – stop rubbing it in his face_, I told myself. "Say… Are there any interesting stories about Redcliffe or the castle?"

"Oh yes! There's a story about the Avvar…" His eyes lit up when he told me the story. I'd already read about it, but I smiled and nodded.

We talked for a long time, and he showed me different places of the castle that contained beautiful ancient objects. But when we got to the kennels, he said he had to go back to the stables, lest someone told him off for not having finished his duties.

I went back outside and was about to start writing about everything that Alistair had shown me, when I saw a commotion at the other side of the bridge. There was a crowd that possibly comprised all the villagers. Even though I was far away, I could hear the cheering very clearly. And then I saw him.

He was riding a superb stallion. His long, golden hair was flowing in the wind – it was his personal banner. His head was crowned by the daylight, and his armor shone like the sun itself. He was followed by the prince, who kept turning around and waving at the crowd enthusiastically. I wanted to alert the people in the castle, but they had all come out to the courtyard. Arl Eamon, Lord Teagan and my father were standing at the bottom of the stairs. My father smiled at me – I must have been beaming with joy. And then I saw Alistair. He was standing behind a large tree. The excitement in his face did not really reflect joy. It was… uncertain. I ran towards him.

"He's here! King Maric's here!"

He nodded and swallowed hard. I noticed that Arl Eamon was looking at us; Alistair saw him as well. He lowered his head and said, "Excuse me," and disappeared into a shed.

I was going to follow him, but the king had reached the courtyard. He dismounted gracefully and gave the reins to a stable boy.

"Begone, foul beast!" he said to the horse. "I'll be happy if I don't see a horse again in my life. Eamon!" His voice was deep and jovial. He briefly hugged the arl and patted his back. "Congratulations! It was high time the Guerrins had new blood, even if—"

"Your Majesty," Teagan said hurriedly when he noticed the arl's frown. "It is so good to see you! For a moment I thought you'd forgotten about us."

"Never, Teagan. Although it is true that, considering how far you are from Denerim and my unholy hatred of horses, I thought it would be easier to forget this place altogether," he laughed and Teagan chuckled in deference.

"You remember Teyrn Cousland, my lord?" Eamon said.

My father stepped forward and bowed. "It is an honour to see you again, Your Majesty."

The king reached out and shook my father's hand. "Bryce! Of course, how's the family? Did you bring them with you?"

"One of my sons is here, my lord." He beckoned and I trotted towards them. "This is one of my twins, Gwyn."

"How do you do, Gwyn?" He offered me his hand and I kissed it.

There was an awkward silence.

"Well, I don't usually shy away from kisses, but for the record, I prefer women." He roared with laughter. My face felt as if it was on fire. He patted me on the head as if I was a puppy.

By this time, Prince Cailan had reached the castle. He looked very much like a younger version of his father, but his features were more delicate. King Maric himself introduced us to him. He must have been sixteen years old at the time, and he looked much younger than my brother. He hugged his uncles affectionately and said he was starving, so we went in for lunch.

* * *

When the meal was finished, the arl asked us to go to the meeting hall for some music and entertainment. We were getting to the hall when I spotted Alistair coming out of a side room, carrying two shields to polish. "Alistair!" I shouted, and I pointed to the king.

King Maric turned around to look, and Alistair became paralyzed.

"Friend of yours?" the king asked me.

"Yes. Alistair, this is King Maric."

"Hello, Alistair," King Maric said slowly.

Alistair bowed and murmured, "Your Majesty."

"And this is Prince Cailan."

Alistair said, "Greetings, Your Highness."

But Cailan's eyes had already wandered off towards the open door of the armory. "Ooh, swords!" he said, and ran off into the room. Alistair lowered his eyes, bowed, and exited. I felt uncomfortable for him, and was considering refraining myself from opening my mouth for the rest of my life, when I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"Who was that boy?"

"His name's Alistair, Your Majesty," I repeated stupidly.

"You said so before. How long have you known him?"

"We've just met, my lord. He lives here in the castle."

"Walk with me, Gwyn, and tell me about him."

I quickly told him everything I knew about Alistair: how nice he was, the fact that despite having no family he was the most cheerful boy I'd ever met, and how smart he was.

"If only he could receive some education. He knows how to read and write, but he deserves more."

"Why do you think so? He is, after all, a servant."

I hesitated to reply, but the king looked at me expectantly.

"I… Well… Because he's special, Your Majesty. He has a good head and a good heart. I think that if he's given the chance, he could be a Chantry scholar."

"A scholar?" The king laughed. I felt my cheeks burning with embarrassment again. "As if we needed more of those. Not a warrior?"

"I—I don't know, my lord," I babbled. But Maric seemed to have lost interest in the conversation.

* * *

I didn't see Alistair for the rest of the day. At night, I smuggled some of the cheese and fruit that we had for dinner and went to the stables. There I found Alistair gazing at an amulet.

"I thought you might like this," I said, and I gave him the little pouch.

"What's this? Cheese? Thank you, it's my favourite!" He nibbled on a piece timidly.

"Listen… I'm sorry if I embarrassed you in any way. It wasn't my intention."

"Oh… No, it's… It was nothing. It's just that sometimes I feel like I don't belong in here, you know? I probably don't, anyway."

I sat next to him and put my arms around my knees. "Hey… I've been thinking. I could ask my father if you can come with us. It's not that you'll be missed here…"

He stopped eating and glanced at me.

"I mean, it can't be much worse than this…"

He stared at me.

"Andraste, I'm really bad at this." I buried my face in my knees. He didn't say anything, but I heard him chuckle.

"Thanks for the meal," he said quietly. I nodded, got up and left.

* * *

Two nights later, I was going back to my room when I saw the king entering the arl's study. He closed the door carelessly behind him, so it was left ajar. I was going to climb the stairs when I heard the king's voice saying 'Alistair'. Curiosity got the best of me, and I moved closer to the study room.

"… not interested," I heard Arl Eamon say.

"Maybe you're right, but let's face it: your Orlesian wife must be dying to get rid of him. After all, isn't that their pastime, getting rid of people?"

"… Your Majesty; please."

"Fine. But I think it's a good idea, Eamon, and I'd like to see it carried out."

"My lord, there's no need…"

"I'm not asking, Eamon."

"… Yes, Your Majesty."

I heard the sound of a chair moving and I sprinted towards the stairs. I ran all the way to my room and got into bed as soon as I could.

* * *

On the morning before our departure, my father and I woke up very early to have a little breakfast before heading for the village to buy some things for my mother. As we were going to the dining room, we heard Alistair shouting.

"No, please! I promise I'll be good!"

"I'm sorry, Alistair."

"I don't know what else I can do for you, but please, give me a chance!"

"This isn't really my decision."

"_Please…_" His voice was infinitely sad.

"Ser Donall will escort you when you've finished packing. But don't worry, I'll come and visit as soon as you've finished settling— Alistair, no!"

There was a dull thump, and Alistair stormed out of the room. He passed by my side but I remained silent. I wanted to reach out and grab him by the hand, but he picked up speed and ran out of the castle. I followed him and saw that he'd missed the last step of the flight of stairs, and had slipped on a puddle of mud. At that time, Lord Teagan arrived from the village. I saw him get close to Alistair and say something, but the boy shook his head and ran into the courtyard shed.

That was the last time I saw him. We left the following day. When we stayed at the inn near Lake Calenhad, I revised the notes I'd taken in Redcliffe. I couldn't help thinking that I'd had something to do with whatever decision Arl Eamon had made, and I wished I hadn't talked to the king about Alistair. Ashamed by my actions, which had obviously distressed the friend that I'd made and lost in such a short period of time, I tore off the pages that talked about him, and when I gave the diary to my sister, I told her that they'd got covered in mud.

Nerissa kissed me and thank me for the journal, and when I saw her smile, I thought that everything that had happened between us in the last months had actually never happened. Our little world was fine at last.

We just failed to see that the peace we felt was the calm before the storm.

**~.~.~.~**

**Next Chapter: Desire**


	8. Desire

**Desire**

_"… At least you were lucky to be with them for so long," the man said._

_"I know," Gwyn replied. "But back then, if I'd been aware of the danger we were in…"_

_"… You would have said something sooner. You were afraid, it's only natural..."_

_Gwyn pressed his head sadly against the cold bars._

_"_All things are known to our Maker, and He shall judge their lies_," he whispered._

* * *

There was someone in the room.

Gwyn's eyes shot open. He could feel someone watching him – someone veiled in the darkness. For a moment, fear spread over his body – slimy, cold, paralyzing fear.

And then it stopped.

He dared not move. He shut his eyes tight and tried to dismiss the feeling.

* * *

"You don't look fine this morning," Nerissa observed, walking outside Vigil's Keep.

"I think I had a bad dream, but I can't remember what it was about," Gwyn frowned. "Why can't I ever remember my dreams?"

"If it was bad, why would you want to remember it?"

"Good point," he yawned. "What about you?"

"Delilah's not that bad. I tried my best and told her a bedtime story so that she'd fall asleep more quickly. It was quite effective," she smiled. Gwyn smiled back. He could not help but notice how beautiful she had become in the last couple of weeks. Her hair was braided most of the time in many different ways, and her clothes had become more feminine and… _tighter _around certain areas.

"Gwyn?" she called.

Gwyn blushed and shook his head. She shrugged.

"I hate to say this but… You don't think Arl Howe will talk dad into forcing us to marry his children, do you?" he asked nervously.

"It's not an easy task, persuading your old man," a soft voice said behind them. Arl Howe had come out of one of the external rooms, followed by Bryce and a young man.

Gwyn choked. Nerissa smiled sweetly and patted her brother's back.

"What my dear children meant," Bryce said apologetically, "is that Father has promised to give them many years of education and travelling before they settle down, isn't that right?"

"Something that Mother doesn't agree with," Gwyn said.

Nerissa nodded. "Still, we don't want to marry as young as our brother."

"And glad I am to hear that, young lady," Rendon smiled. "I always thought marrying young was as inevitable as death itself – it is, however, much worse. My boy here," he looked at the young man, "twenty years of age, has yet to finish his training. He is not yet a man-"

"Father," the young man protested.

"Shush, Nathaniel. The adults are talking. We just need to find a family abroad who is decent enough to give you a little perspective. You are, after all, the next arl. Well, you will be, when you grow a pair." Arl Howe laughed at his son's flushed face.

Gwyn and Bryce, visibly uncomfortable, looked away; Nerissa, however, said calmly, "That is a beautiful bow, Nathaniel. Did you make it yourself?"

Nathaniel looked at her. She smiled expectantly.

"I… No. I only use it."

"Perhaps you could give me some pointers? I'm quite good with daggers," she showed him a silverite dagger her father had given her, "but when it comes to bows, I always have problems with the stringing."

"My dear child," Howe snorted. "What good would that do? Women have other duties, and little time for war. You're such a cute doll."

It was Nerissa's turn to blush.

"Rowan Guerrin," Gwyn muttered under his breath.

"What's that, my boy? That was a different era, and if you ask me, I think she would have lived longer if she had stayed away from all that horrible fighting. But enough – I believe breakfast is in order. Come, Nathaniel. Bryce?"

Bryce gave the twins a _bear-with-this-for-one-more-day-please _look, and they nodded surreptitiously.

"No wonder his wife looks so bitter," Gwyn said. "The younger children are bratty, and the older is spineless."

"He wasn't that bad," Nerissa protested weakly.

"Still, he could have said something. He is Fergus's age, and even though I don't usually praise our brother, I think Fergus is twice the man Nathaniel seems to be." Gwyn shook his head. "I don't like him."

"You've barely seen him!"

"And I think it was enough-Wait." He took her by the shoulders and stared into her eyes. "You… _like_ him?"

"What are you saying?" Nerissa giggled.

"You like him!" Gwyn cried.

"Hush!" Nerissa said, covering her brother's mouth with her fingers. "What's…? Why are you giving me that look?"

Gwyn was scowling at her. "_Nerissa. Cousland. _He's too old for you. You're… You're too young for him."

"That is the same argument, you know…"

"He's a _Howe,_" he said, gripping her wrists.

"Gwyn…"

"You can't. I won't let you!" His grip tightened until Nerissa winced.

"M-message for you, m'lady?" a voice said quietly.

Gwyn let go of her and walked away. Nerissa received the message from the elven boy, thanked him, and waited till he was out of sight to speak.

"What is wrong with you?" She punched Gwyn on the back.

"I'm sorry," he grumbled. "My head hurts. Maybe last night affected me more than I thought."

"Well, do try to get some sleep tonight. I hate to see you acting almost like a bratty Howe."

She hugged him playfully. He put his arms around her and rested his head on her shoulder. She smelled like embrium and roses. Her hair was warm in the morning light, and the skin of her neck was soft and inviting, like one of those delicious apricots Oriana had brought back from Antiva. He found himself wanting to take a bite off her. He closed his eyes and leaned in, but the sound of rustling paper brought him back. Nerissa was reading something behind his back.

"What's that?" He said, pulling away and clearing his throat.

"A note," she said, oblivious to his behaviour. She read, _"I can help you with the stringing. Meet me after lunch behind the servants' quarters. N."_

Gwyn gaped. "Is that…?"

Nerissa smiled. "Yes – not what you expected, eh? Please don't tell anyone about it, will you? Father wouldn't mind, but it seems that if Arl Howe knew about this…"

Gwyn frowned and turned away. "Do as you wish, _sister,_" and he left her alone.

* * *

_"What does it feel like?"_

_"I don't know. It's hard to describe. Maybe Andraste would be the only one that can explain the feeling of having a voice inside your head whispering, saying things that make you wonder…"_

_"I'd have been terrified," the man shuddered. After a while, he asked, "Do you think that's what happened with Mr Wiggums?"_

_Gwyn blinked. "Anders, Mr Wiggums was a cat."_

_"I know that, silly. I mean the possession. I understand the Templars' fear of mages, because we are like beacons for the demons. But a _cat_… It kinda makes you wonder whether anyone or anything can get possessed," Anders said pensively._

_"I hope we never get to find that out," Gwyn replied._

* * *

During lunch, Gwyn would not take his eyes off Nathaniel or Nerissa. His sister was quiet, and she never looked at the Howe boy unless he said something. As it was Arl Howe who was in charge of the conversation, that did not happen frequently. For a moment, Gwyn thought he was getting too worried over nothing. And besides, Nerissa was only his sister. Perhaps he felt unnecessarily overprotective in the absence of Fergus and Oriana, who usually went on about how their father gave them too much freedom, and how children needed to live by rules. Now that Oriana had a baby, she seemed to have grown closer to Eleanor, and both women spent the day torturing the youngest Couslands about what was proper and what was not.

If his mother had seen him holding his sister, would she have disapproved? She would certainly disapprove of Nerissa meeting Nathaniel in secret. But Eleanor trusted Nerissa, and Gwyn suspected that all those visits and talks to Mother Mallol had something to do with it. Their mother was a believer – not a zealot, since she did not force her children to pray as much as she did, but it was evident that the time Nerissa had been spending at the chapel had made Eleanor happy.

"May I be excused, Father?" Nathaniel said in a low voice.

"Yes, boy. Run along," the Arl said, as if talking to a child.

Gwyn caught the quick glimpse Nathaniel gave at Nerissa, but she was looking down. Still, there was a half smile painted on her face. Gwyn got nervous. What was he supposed to do? Did he trust her? Did he trust Nathaniel? What would his mother say?

"Father," he said. "Can Nerissa and I get back to our rooms? We should start packing."

"Of course, pups," Bryce smiled at them encouragingly. There was a touch of longing in his voice, as if he also wanted to pack his belongings and get back home as soon as possible.

When they were out of the room, Nerissa kissed Gwyn.

"That was brilliant, Gwynny! Thank you so much!"

"Not so fast," he said seriously. "I'm coming with you."

"Are you sure? I didn't think you were interested…"

"Oh, I'm sure. I'm sure all right."

Nerissa was confused. "Very well. Let's go."

* * *

As it turned out, it was one of the most boring moments in Gwyn's life. Two hours into the training, and Nathaniel had been nothing but polite, actually speaking a great deal now that he was away from his father. He looked like a dog that had been freed from its leash. Nerissa was glad to see that she had not embarrassed him with her request, and he certainly knew a lot about archery.

"I don't understand why your father seems to think you need more training. You are much better than my mother at this," she said, aiming and shooting. "And you're so young!"

"I believe your father and mine were younger when they fought at the battle of White River. I've yet to have an opportunity to test my skill as a warrior," he said calmly, while delivering a perfect shot.

"My father is no warrior, but he was lucky to get Fergus. He certainly has the right mind to study the art of war. When we were younger, Gwyn and I teased him about it. I think he loved planning strategies. His favourite pastime was to recreate the battle of White River, to see if there was a way in which it could have been successful."

Nathaniel nodded. "I guess that's part of the mentality of a warrior. Me? I'm not sure I'm good at that. I think this is why Father wants to send me away. Try with this one," he said, giving her a shortbow, "it's lighter and it'll be faster."

Nerissa took the bow from him. Nathaniel stood behind her and put a finger below her chin. "You need to find your centre. If you do this…" He guided her hand to show her.

**_Look at them… It is obvious what he wants to do with her… He wants to be a man… He will take the first woman he sees to prove himself…_**

"What are you doing?" Gwyn asked.

"I'm showing her how to find her anchor point," Nathaniel replied.

"Oh. I'm sure you won't mind if I watch you –this part– closely," Gwyn said, standing very close to Nathaniel.

"As long as you don't stand in front of us…" Nathaniel gave a quick look at Nerissa, who rolled her eyes amusedly.

"Alright, let's give it a shot!" Nerissa's arrow hit very close to the mark Nathaniel had drawn for her. "Much better!"

"Indeed. I think you just need to relax your hand a bit more – otherwise you'll hit everybody but the aim," Nathaniel chuckled. He cleared his throat and said. "I hope it's been useful."

"It has," Nerissa smiled, stretching out her hand. Nathaniel extended his hand to take hers into his.

**_He will take her away from us… Away from you… He will dishonour her… She must be kept from his touch…_**

"Very useful," Gwyn said, pushing Nerissa aside and shaking Nathaniel's hand instead. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we've got things to do," and he took his sister away.

* * *

The next day they returned to Highever. Nerissa refused to talk to him. Here, away from Amaranthine, Gwyn hoped he would feel more like himself.

"I don't care. It was rude, and you know it," she said, folding her arms and looking away.

"I was trying to protect you," Gwyn protested.

**_Listen to her… She wants him…_**

"Stop it…" Gwyn murmured.

"You keep saying that, but…" Nerissa's voice faded away. Her mouth kept moving, but Gwyn heard another voice.

**_She wants him as well… She has cast her doubts aside… She wants to be a woman, and she has chosen him… She will give herself to him…_**

"Stop it!" Gwyn shouted, covering his ears.

Nerissa got startled. She stopped talking and looked at her brother. His eyes were shut tight and looked as if he was in pain. She touched his shoulder gently. "Gwyn?"

"Get away from me!" He gave her a shove and she fell backwards, hitting her head on the stones of the entrance steps.

"Nerissa?" She did not respond.

"Nerissa?" He touched her face. There was no movement.

Gwyn knelt down beside his sister. He took her in his arms and shook her gently. "Nerissa, please… It's not funny… Please, say you're fine…" He held her head close to his face and felt something wetting his fingers. Blood.

"Gwyn?" Fergus said. Gwyn barely saw him through the tears.

"Fergus, I… I pushed her… I didn't mean to-"

But Fergus was already carrying her into the castle. "Fetch Nanny," he just said, and disappeared.

* * *

Even though his eyes were closed, Gwyn knew that Bryce was staring at him. His father's silence said much more than any harsh word he could have said.

"Father…"

"I've been trying to understand this, Gwyn. I have. You know I don't approve of violence."

"I know…"

"I noticed, when we were coming back from Amaranthine, that your sister had got angry at you for some reason I do not know. Is this why you two fought?"

"We didn't-"

"I want you to tell me the truth, Gwyn. You know we've always been able to talk to each other in this family." Bryce's voice was gentle but firm. "I've always believed you can accomplish more by talking than by fighting. So I simply cannot understand what took you to do that to your sister."

"I'm sorry…"

"It's not a question of being sorry, Gwyn. I want to understand."

"I can't explain."

"You can't or you won't?"

"I don't know…" Gwyn's voice was a whisper now, the tears flowing down silently from his closed eyes.

Bryce sighed.

"I'm very disappointed, son. But if you don't feel like talking at the moment, I suggest you stay in your room until you can come up with a good explanation."

"Yes, sir…"

"Go."

As Gwyn was about to go out, Eleanor came in. She put her hand over his shoulder.

"Eleanor, don't." Bryce's voice was dark.

"Bryce, please! Can't you see he's not well?" Eleanor held Gwyn against her chest, and then Gwyn's defenses came tumbling down. His crying turned into wailing, and even though he felt like a little child, he could not help it.

"Maker's breath, Bryce…" Eleanor gave her husband a pleading look. "Does he look like he wanted to hurt Nerissa? You know how much he loves her – this must be a misunderstanding!"

"I gave him a chance to explain his actions, Eleanor. I can't go any further than that. If he has decided not to speak, so be it."

Eleanor stroked Gwyn's hair softly. "Darling, talk to me. It's alright; you know you can tell me…"

**_When she knows, she will send you away… You are not powerful enough… But I can help you with that…_**

Gwyn shook his head, pushed his mother away, and ran to his room.

* * *

He was exhausted. He did not understand what was going on. He tried to sleep, but all he managed to do was get a headache. He got up and paced up and down his room. He tried to listen to the voices passing by: Fergus, saying Nerissa was sleeping well; Nanny, asking if Master Gwyn could take a little supper; Eleanor, dragged away from the door by his father; Mother Mallol, offering to help him…

But nobody went in the room. The lights had been out for some time when he decided to try to sleep. He closed his eyes and welcomed slumber.

* * *

He did not know how long he had slept, but a soft light woke him up. It was probably right after dawn, because the castle stood silent. He felt hungry and decided to come out of the room.

His eyes had trouble focusing. Everything was blurred. He thought it had something to do with all the crying he had done the night before. The empty corridors looked very big in this light.

"Gwyn?" A voice called after him.

He turned around. "A-Alistair?"

"Thank you so much for asking your father to bring me here with you," Alistair took his hand and pressed it against his cheek. "Thank you for saving me from the abbey."

"But I… I don't understand."

Alistair kissed his hand. "Don't you remember? You told your father about my living in the stables, and he agreed to let me come to Highever."

Gwyn withdrew his hand slowly. "I didn't…"

Alistair looked at him sadly.

"You don't remember…?"

"I didn't tell him. What… What is this?" Gwyn looked around and the castle disappeared. They were back at the stables of Redcliffe.

"Who are you? What are you?!"

Alistair smirked.

**_Not the boy? You are definitely naughtier than I thought, then…_**

Alistair turned into Nerissa.

"What is this?" Gwyn shouted.

Nerissa ran away, through a delicate veil and into a forest. Gwyn ran after her, shouting her name. Some branches scratched his face. And suddenly, he came to a glade.

"Gwyn…" Nerissa cried. "Gwyn, help me…"

There was a man behind her, groping her wantonly, biting down her neck.

"This is not happening," Gwyn muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes. "This is just a bad dream…" He heard Nerissa giggling, and he saw the man's face. The Howe boy.

Nerissa's face reflected desire and need as she opened her mouth to greet Nathaniel's lips. She moaned and contorted to let Nathaniel slip a hand between her legs.

"No…" Gwyn said.

Nerissa looked at him as Nathaniel touched her.

"No." Gwyn repeated.

Nathaniel turned her around, pinned her against a tree and lifted her skirt up to her waist. Nerissa laughed.

"No!" Gwyn shouted. And suddenly Nathaniel and Nerissa were paralyzed, their actions interrupted.

Gwyn felt something struggling to come out. He looked at his hands, but they had disappeared behind a cold fire. He heard his name from afar, as if it was a dream…

A dream…

He opened his eyes. He was standing in the middle of a black area on the beach. How had he got…?

"Gwyn!" Nerissa shouted in the distance.

He looked around and saw her, her head wrapped in bandages. She was running towards him, pointing at something behind him.

**_Well, well: Wild Magic… Oh, this will be sweeter than I expected!_**

It was Gwyn's turn to be paralyzed. The voice he had been hearing was physically close to him. He turned his eyes towards the source of the voice and what he saw made his blood freeze.

A woman – no, something different. The _shape_ of a woman, with horns. A beast. A temptress. Its long fingers ended in razor-sharp nails that shamelessly caressed its breasts, barely covered with chains.

**_I can give you everything you want. You just have to say the word…_**

"No!" Gwyn looked away and shut his eyes. The beast reached out to touch him, but it was pushed away by the repulsion field around him.

**_No? Are you sure you are strong enough to resist what I have to offer? What if…?_**

The beast looked at Nerissa.

**_What if I gave you your sister? You want her, don't you?_**

"I don't want her like _that_!" Gwyn cried.

**_I do not understand your love. I seek to understand that feeling. Won't you help me in exchange for power?_**

"He doesn't need that, demon!" Nerissa shouted, throwing a rock at the beast.

The beast slid quickly towards Nerissa. Gwyn extended his hand and there was a bolt of lightning that hit both, Nerissa and the beast, and sent them flying away.

"NO!" Gwyn screamed. There was a light shining on Nerissa's waist. The dagger. He called for her, but she had barely sat up when the beast cast a spell and enclosed her in a cloud that gave off a cold mist.

The beast turned around to look at Gwyn.

**_I do not seek a fight. But if you fight me…_**

Gwyn tried to focus. He felt his energy was being drained. But he could not fail.

"Come to me," he grunted.

The beast sauntered towards him, an exultant smile on its face.

**_Look at me, dear boy. I will give you everything you have always wanted. You just have to let me in._**

Gwyn's body was trembling violently. He looked at it in the eye.

"No," he said, and with the little strength he had left, he had one last thought.

The body of the beast was slowly covering in brittle. The beast hissed and caught him by the neck, lifting him. It wrapped its fingers around Gwyn's throat and pressed. Over its shoulder, Gwyn saw that Nerissa had become free from the spell, and he closed his eyes trying to maintain focus for as long as he could. He was trying to buy her time to get some help, because at this point he understood that it had been a mistake not to say anything, and that if he was lucky, he was going to pay for it with his life, and not with the ones of his family.

Nerissa sank her dagger deep into the armpit of the beast, forcing it to let go of Gwyn. The beast screamed and slapped her with the back of its hand. But now both children were away from its reach, because its feet were caught in a mound of rocky ice.

**_I will have one of you, or both! I-_**

A sword cut through its neck, silencing it forever.

Nerissa and Gwyn looked up and saw Fergus, panting, sword in hand and in his nightclothes only.

"Wh- What…" he babbled.

Nerissa winced but managed to smile at her older brother, and then looked around for Gwyn. He was lying on his back, barely breathing. She scrambled to get where he was, and held him in her arms, rocking him gently. Fergus dropped his sword, walked up to them and fell on his knees. His arms were not long enough to contain them both, but he did his best, as they had always known he would.

* * *

Oriana heard the news from her husband, and held onto her baby, kissing his head gently, and wondering if she should have said something before…

* * *

Bryce and Eleanor held hands while listening to Fergus. Eleanor sobbed and hid her face in Bryce's neck, whereas Bryce, whose face was now the colour of ashes, struggled to understand what Fergus was trying to tell him. He had to be wrong, this was not happening to them, not… again…

* * *

Mother Mallol was holding hands with the twins.

_"Those who bear false witness and work to deceive others, know this,"_ Mallol said.

_"There is but one Truth,"_ Nerissa said.

_"All things are known to our Maker, and He shall judge their lies,"_ Gwyn murmured.

_"Many are those who wander in sin, despairing that they are lost forever,"_ Mallol chanted.

_"But the one who repents, who has faith unshaken by the darkness of the world,"_ Gwyn cried.

_"And boasts not, nor gloats over the misfortunes of the weak, but takes delight in the Maker's law and creations, she shall know the peace of the Maker's benediction."_ Nerissa said calmly.

_"Creator of the Sky, the Land, and the Sea: hear your people in our time of need,"_ Mallol called.

_"Maker watch over us,"_ the twins said.

_"Let no man have cause to fear the shadows. Let their souls be lifted upon your return. So let it be,"_ Mallol concluded.

"Maker forgive us all," Bryce said. The twins turned around and saw their father and mother, their faces filled with love and their arms open in acceptance. They got on their feet and wept together, for they knew that they would never be complete again.

* * *

"I thought it was my fault, you know?" Nerissa said.

"What was?"

"If I hadn't been there with you that day, perhaps you would not have reacted that way."

"The magic?"

"Yes." Nerissa held hands with her brother. She looked up and saw the tower. "Andraste's Sacred Ashes… It's so big!"

"It wasn't your fault. It was always there."

"I tried to stay away. I thought that if you didn't care about me…" Her eyes filled with tears. "If you didn't know how I felt, or what I thought, maybe it would be easier for you to-"

Gwyn hugged her.

"You're my sister. My twin sister. Losing you would have been like losing myself."

"Will I see you again?" Nerissa asked.

"You can't row for your life," Gwyn smiled. "You'll have to learn to swim, and who knows what lurks in those waters."

"I will see you again, I promise," Nerissa stated more firmly.

Bryce approached them.

"Remember what I said, Gwyn. You will always be a Cousland." He hugged his son tightly. "Today you'll start your own path, and even though you will be walking the way on your own, remember us, and have confidence that we will meet again."

"I know, dad," Gwyn tried to smile bravely, but his lips quivered. Bryce was reminded of another child, of another era…

"Will you look for her?" he asked.

"Aunt Elissa. Yes, I will. The doll is in my pack."

"Thank you," Bryce whispered.

Nerissa held his hand. "The Templars," she pointed out.

Out of the mist they came in their heavy plates. Their helmets were off. The older one approached Bryce and bowed.

"I am Knight-Commander Greagoir. I will escort the Mage Apprentice Gwyn to Kinloch Hold, otherwise known as the Circle of Ferelden, which will be his place of residency until his adulthood."

"Well-met, Knight-Commander," Bryce saluted him.

"From this moment on, Gwyn Cousland," Greagoir turned to Gwyn, "you will no longer hold your family name, and will have no claims to title or property possessed by your family of birth."

"I understand, Knight-Commander," Gwyn said gravely.

"Very well. The boat awaits us." Knight-Commander Greagoir crossed his arms over his chest, bowed once more, and walked away.

"Goodbye," Gwyn started to say, but his throat closed, overwhelmed by emotion.

Nerissa hugged him one last time, silently. Bryce kissed his son's forehead. There was so much to say and no words to express it.

Gwyn climbed onto the boat and held his pack against his chest. As the boat moved across the waters of the lake, the figures of his father and his sister became smaller. He could see that Bryce's arms were around Nerissa, and for a moment he felt a certain loneliness that pierced through him. He hid his face against his pack and cried for everything that had been lost to the curse of magic.

* * *

"He could have stayed with us," Nerissa cried. "We could have-"

"No," Bryce said, caressing her hair. "We did what we had to do. We always do."

"No matter how much it hurts?"

"No matter how much we have to sacrifice. Always."

* * *

"Welcome to Kinloch Hold," Greagoir said.

Gwyn's eyes wandered around the greatest hall he had ever seen. He barely noticed when the heavy doors closed behind him, separating him from the rest of the world and life as he had known it.

"I am First Enchanter Irving," said a man with a gentle face. "Welcome to the Circle, Gwyn Cousland."

"No," he said calmly. "It's just Gwyn."

Irving smiled. "Welcome home, Gwyn."

**~.~.~.~.~**

**Next Chapter: Amell**


	9. Amell

**Amell**

****

Everything felt different there. The air felt… alive. It was like a constant breeze flowing through the rooms. In spite of the great number of children there, the ceilings in the dormitories were so high that one had to _assume_ that there was an end to them.

Irving led him to the apprentices' dormitory. Tens of beds, in the fashion of berths, were lined up, and at their feet, there were crates carved with names and dates. They looked ancient. That was when it struck him: it was not the air – you could feel the history of the Circle flowing around.

"You will share your bedroom with apprentices of your age, even though they are way ahead of you… This brings me to the things we must do today: the Knight-Commander and I will be having a talk with you – it's customary, do not worry – and there will be an evaluation of your abilities afterwards."

"I've never studied-"

"We know that, child. But we must know what kind of magic we're dealing with."

"The demon called it 'wild'," Gwyn said carelessly.

Irving stared at him and sighed.

"It seems we'll be starting sooner than I expected. Let's go and find Greagoir, shall we? No, no. Take your things with you."

As they were going out of the dormitory, a group of students came running. They stopped abruptly and composed themselves at the sight of the First Enchanter.

"Children," Irving nodded.

"First Enchanter," the tallest child said. He had jet black hair and sparkling blue eyes. There was a mischievous smile dancing on his lips that reminded Gwyn of Nerissa's.

Silence. Gwyn hated to be the centre of attention, and at this moment, he felt everybody's looks on him and coughed nervously.

"This is Gwyn," Irving said. "If everything goes fine, you'll have time to talk to him later."

"First Enchanter, _'if'_?" The second boy pointed out. He was not as tall as the first one, and he looked underfed. His blonde, gingery hair was somewhat long for a young boy, but it was neatly pulled back, with the exception of some parts that had probably come loose, probably in the race to the dormitory.

"Anders! It's the _First Enchanter_!" the third member of the group whispered to the boy. Gwyn was surprised to see an elven girl – but then he remembered that magic had once been commonplace among elves. She was very pretty – dark hair, amber eyes, and her skin looked soft, clear and silky. Compared to her friends, she looked really young and small.

"That's alright, Neria. I'm afraid Anders is right. I should have said _'when'_ – my apologies, Gwyn. These are Torrian, Anders, and Neria." A tall boy caught up with the group, panting. "Ah. And Jowan, of course."

"First Enchanter," the last boy nodded politely and stood beside Neria.

"Anders is the one sleeping on the upper bed of your set, Gwyn."

"What happened to Joachim?" Anders asked. Torrian and Neria looked down.

"I… forgot to tell you. Come," Torrian said, pulling Anders away by the sleeve of his robes.

Gwyn followed them with his eyes until they were gone. Irving put a hand over his shoulder and said, "Let's go."

* * *

"First Enchanter?" A woman poked her head into the room. They were in Irving's study room – Greagoir, Irving, an enchanter, another Templar, and Gwyn. The woman was dressed in Circle robes; her snow white hair was neatly braided, although it looked like she had just taken off a ridiculous-looking hat she was holding in the cinch around her waist.

"Ah, Wynne. Come in, please."

Wynne took a seat and held her hands together over her lap. Gwyn wondered why so many people had been called to see him.

"Wynne, this is Gwyn, our new apprentice."

"How do you do, young man?" Wynne smiled at him. Her face wore such a motherly smile that gave Gwyn a little pang of longing for Eleanor's arms.

"How do you do, Senior Enchanter," Gwyn bowed. Irving, Wynne, and Greagoir smiled briefly.

"I'm sorry to interrupt the practice with your group," Irving apologized, "but we thought that you might appreciate partaking in the evaluation of this new student."

"What Circle do you come from, Gwyn?" Wynne asked.

"None, madam. I've never had formal training."

"I'm loving this child," Irving whispered to Greagoir, who grunted but nodded approvingly.

"How old are you?"

"Twelve, madam."

"And until now you had never shown any signs of magic?" Wynne was looking at Greagoir and Irving now.

"His family surrendered him just now," Greagoir said. "His father and mother hold the teyrnir of Highever."

Wynne gaped at Irving. Irving simply looked back at her.

"Did something happen? Why did they surrender him now?"

The other enchanter spoke for the first time. "I'd venture he was in danger of attracting a demon… Or maybe he has already done that, am I right? Is this why we're here, Irving?"

"That's right, Uldred," Irving admitted.

"Wonderful," Uldred scoffed. "_Highever _you said, Knight-Commander. That makes him a Cousland." He looked at Gwyn. "Interesting. Haven't we got another Cousland in the Hold?"

"Tranquil Elissa," Wynne murmured. "A sister, or-?"

"My father's sister," Gwyn interrupted. There was something about these people talking about his family that did not feel right. "And I no longer hold my family name."

"Ooh, a fast learner," Uldred smirked. "I'm sure your teachers will be fascinated. I still don't understand why I was summoned." He stood up and smoothed his robes.

"Neither do I," said Wynne. "Isn't this a simple assessment?"

"The demon talked to him and said he had wild magic," Irving said calmly.

Uldred sat down. Wynne raised her eyebrows. Gwyn wondered why it was relevant.

"My, my," Uldred smiled. "A _desire_ demon?"

"Did he…? Did _you_ fight the demon, Gwyn?" Wynne looked concerned.

"I did my best. My brother and sister helped me."

"But you didn't accept the demon's offer."

"Maker, no!" Gwyn's eyes were wide open. "Who would do that?"

Uldred leaned forward and asked, "How did you defeat it?"

Gwyn frowned. "I'm not sure. There were… I had some reactions that I couldn't foresee. They just… happened. I do know that before my brother killed it, I tried to focus and think of something that would immobilize it."

"An ice spell?" Uldred asked.

"Possibly. It was like… Dark ice."

"Brittle," Wynne murmured. "_Petrify._ Gwyn, was this the first time you'd done magic?"

Gwyn shut his mouth tight. Wynne moved closer to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "It's alright. You're among friends. We understand better than anybody else."

"No," he said slowly. "I… discovered the power two years ago."

"Maker," Wynne muttered to herself. "How did you…?"

"I was attacked and I responded," Gwyn said blandly. His mind, however, was racing, and he hoped he would not have to explain under what circumstances he had discovered his condition. He did not want his family involved in this.

"Well then," Uldred said with a smile, "why don't we go to the training room and see _how_ you responded?"

* * *

Irving had explained that one of the enchanters would be casting an offensive spell –Gwyn's bet was on Uldred– and that he only had to react to defend himself. In his mind, it seemed simple enough, except for the fact that he had no idea whatsoever how he was supposed to react.

Uldred stood facing him. Gwyn's stomach started to turn as if it wanted to escape from his body. He did not want to be sick in front of so many people. That would be embarrassing.

The enchanter moved his hands and muttered something, and suddenly everything went black.

"Are you sure you brought the right child, Knight-Commander?" Uldred laughed.

"Poor kid. He didn't see it coming," Wynne said, kneeling next to Gwyn's sleeping body. She beckoned to the Templar, who cast a magic removal spell.

Gwyn opened his eyes and saw Wynne's face. He frowned.

"What happened?" His voice was croaky.

"Nothing, dear. Are you ready to try again?" Wynne's voice was encouraging. He nodded and stood up. Uldred raised his arms again, and Gwyn saw him move his mouth. Nothing happened. He saw the enchanters standing in front of him, and he asked, "Did something happen?" Or at least he wanted to ask that. His body was completely paralyzed. Not one muscle reacted to his will. He could see everything and everyone, but there was nothing he could do physically. The Templar cast his power over him and he fell to the floor. Wynne knelt down again and helped him up.

"This is a waste of time," Uldred mocked. "Hey Wynne, what do you say to a bit of practice, eh?" He prepared to attack.

This time his hands seemed to move more slowly. Wynne turned around quietly to face the attack, but Gwyn thought that she would not be able to stop it. She was faster than he thought, but unfortunately, that was when Gwyn's magic decided to manifest itself. Wynne cast a protection spell right when Gwyn's three-times companion now, the repulsion circle, appeared.

The blast that came off as a consequence of the union of both spells threw everybody off balance and paralyzed Uldred. The Templar removed the spell from him; Irving and Greagoir got back on their feet very quickly, and Wynne beamed at Gwyn.

"A defensive caster. And a good heart too; always ready to protect. I bet you will make a good healer."

"Ugh… How dull," Uldred said, shaking his head. But, there you are, Irving: I dare say he's harmless, unless he fails to control his emotions. You shouldn't get too attached to anybody, apprentice," the enchanter told him. "It will be your weakness."

Gwyn noticed Wynne's reproachful look. He said nothing.

"Wynne will give you some instructions and then you can join your companions for supper," Irving smiled.

"Let's go, Gwyn," Wynne said, evidently pleased with the outcome.

Gwyn followed her rather happily.

* * *

The robes felt strange. He wondered if that was how women felt when they wore dresses. He rubbed his legs together and hoped that nobody noticed how uncomfortable it felt for him. He tried to jump a bit, making sure that nothing inappropriate could be seen.

"Don't bother, mate," a passing apprentice said. "There's not much skipping to do around here anyway."

Gwyn blushed and walked quickly to the dining room. He had just entered the room when Torrian spotted him from afar.

"Hey, Gwyn!" the boy shouted from the table. "Come sit with us!"

Gwyn walked over to where he and his group were. He felt nervous – he had never taken the chance to interact with other children, except for his sister. He had no idea what was expected of him.

Torrian patted the bench and Anders moved aside to give him some space. Gwyn sat down between the two boys and thanked them quietly. And then he noticed their eyes on him. Torrian and Anders were watching him closely, their noses almost touching his cheeks. The elven girl, Neria, and the older boy –was it Jowan?– were sitting across the table, giggling. Gwyn felt terribly self-conscious and for a moment he did not know what to do. After a while, he turned to Torrian.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked sheepishly.

"You've just made me the leader of this merry band," Torrian said with a smile. "In your face, Anders!" he shouted at the other boy, who was laughing and clapping.

Neria rolled her smiling eyes. "Don't pay attention to them. The idea was that, whoever you looked at first was going to 'lead' us for the next month."

"These two are always playing jokes on people," Jowan warned him. "Don't let your guard down."

"Or you'll end up like poor Mattheus Pompadour," Torrian said seriously.

"What happened to Mattheus Pompadour?" Gwyn asked.

Torrian gave him a roguish smile. "It's a nefarious story!"

"Plagued with spirits, werewolves, and the undead!" Anders added.

"Stop it!" Neria said.

"Ah, poor sister Neria," Torrian said softly. "She hates the undead."

"Her fear won't help her when they come to eat her feet!" Anders said, touching Neria's feet with his own. The girl squeaked and covered her face. Jowan hugged her, and Torrian and Anders slapped their hands together behind Gwyn's back.

"There's no Mattheus Pompadour," Torrian whispered in his ear. Gwyn smiled and remember how much Nerissa liked to invent stories for others.

"Oh, but of course there is," he said nonchalantly.

"Get out of here," Torrian said. "There is not."

"I assure you, there is," Gwyn said gravely.

Torrian looked into his eyes. "You're bluffing."

Gwyn shook his head. "I'll tell you about him later, if you want."

Torrian peered at him, a smile slowly drawing on his face. "Alright then. It's settled," he said, and shouldered him playfully. Gwyn smiled back.

A plate of food appeared in front of him. When he turned to thank the person, he realized it was a Tranquil. Short, gray hair. The Tranquil moved on, barely acknowledging Gwyn's thanks, except for an almost imperceptible nod.

Gwyn looked around, looking for his aunt. There were no young women in sight. He would have to ask Wynne about it.

* * *

When they had finished dinner, Torrian took him by the hand and led him to the common bedroom. Gwyn was barely aware of the others' presence. There was something about this boy that made his heart skip a beat. His happy sparkling eyes, his warm touch, his playful manner: he knew that Torrian had been born to lead, just as he had been born to follow.

They all sat down around him and Gwyn started narrating the story of Mattheus Pompadour: accomplished duelist, renowned lover, and pirate nobleman. The story was just the beginning. In the years to come, many a night would be spent listening to the feats of their beloved Mattheus. Weaving stories would be Gwyn's contribution to the group.

* * *

It was late when Gwyn went to bed. He lay on his side and peered in the darkness. The room was so big, the noises were unknown. There was no fire, and it was beginning to get cold. He tossed and turned. He turned his pillow upside down many times, but he could not get to sleep.

"Hey," he heard. Anders's head was hanging from the upper berth. The boy climbed down and crouched next to his bed. "Having trouble to sleep?"

Gwyn nodded, and before he knew it, Anders had got into bed with him, holding a little pillow he had brought along. Gwyn blushed. Something in his mind told him this was not right.

"They made him Tranquil, you know? Joachim. He was having nightmares. I could feel him twisting around every night." His voice sounded sad. "Torrian told me that he asked for it. But who could ever want to be Tranquil?"

"My aunt is… one of them."

"I'm sorry," Anders said. "How did it happen?"

"I'm not sure. My father didn't tell me."

"What's her name?"

"Elissa."

"Hm… I don't know her, but we can always ask around. Do you mind if I stay?"

"N-no," Gwyn hesitated. Anders's face was lying on the pillow, very close to his own. His eyes were kind, and his face looked very young.

"Oh, I almost forgot: this is my special pillow. I'll lend it to you tonight," he said, giving Gwyn the small pillow he had been holding against his chest, "and you'll see that you can get to sleep very easily."

And surprisingly, he was right.

* * *

The first month went by in a blur. He would not join the other apprentices for a while, and Wynne had adopted him as her ward for the first couple of days to help him endure the adjustment period. Fortunately, the first part was reading books and writing about them, something Gwyn was good at. And even though he enjoyed the moments he spent with the group, he liked to take some time to be on his own, reading Nerissa's letters –two had been received already– and devouring books. Anders and Neria disagreed most of the time over his pastimes. Anders said that Gwyn needed to go out and enjoy the hours of exercise the Templars forced them to have, whereas Neria said that it was important that he caught up with them, so that they could be together in the classes.

Jowan did not have a particular opinion, worried as he was about passing his theoretical exams, and Torrian got them off Gwyn's back as much as he could; every time Gwyn had a particularly difficult day, he invented a wild task so that they would leave the new apprentice alone. Gwyn felt grateful for his friendship.

* * *

In time, Torrian learnt of Elissa. He told Gwyn he would take him to see her as soon as they had some time to spare.

"She works with Enchanter Ines."

"How do you know her?"

Torrian was silent. Then he simply smiled. "I've talked to her a few times."

"Even if I see her, I don't know what to say. I've been thinking about it for over a month now," Gwyn confessed. "She was brought here when she was very young. My father wrote to her every month, but couldn't bring himself to come and see her. He was always afraid that she would be terribly unhappy here, and that she would ask him to take her back home."

Torrian had sat down next to him and was listening attentively.

"And then, one year after we were born –my sister and I– my father learned of some problems in the Circle. But it was too late. Aunt Elissa had been made Tranquil already, and all that remained was a box with all the letters he had sent her, read over and over again, and this." Gwyn took the little griffin doll from under his pillow and gave it to Torrian. "This was the only thing that she took with her. When the Templars came, they gave everything back."

Torrian caressed the doll pensively, nodding quietly.

"My father told me that he'd always thought that she'd be having trouble sleeping without it, Tranquil or no. So I brought it along with me. I don't know what he was hoping for. I certainly don't know what _I_ expect."

Torrian took Gwyn's hand between his and pressed it sympathetically. Gwyn hesitated. Torrian's gesture felt wrong and right. And then he realized that it did not have to do with the fact that Torrian was a boy or that they had not known each other for a very long time – he was just a person who was not afraid of listening or showing affection. He was not afraid of other people seeing how the rowdy boy sought the silent boy day after day, his preference for Gwyn's companionship being obvious now.

"Come with me," Torrian said.

They skipped breakfast and went straight to the Gardens. Enchanter Ines was working on a batch of mushrooms and was chanting something that sounded like "more lyrium, more shade," but she waved at Torrian before going back to her duties. Torrian dragged Gwyn behind him until they got to the Botany library.

"I'll wait for you outside," Torrian said, pressing Gwyn's arm gently. Gwyn nodded and opened the door, clutching the little doll in his left hand.

There was a young woman working on floral arrangements. Her fingers worked swiftly, weaving the assorted flowers in bunches that matched the colours of the different sections of the books. She was bathed in the sunlight that came in through a high window, and her short hair looked like a crown in that light. She stopped working and faced the sun, her eyes closed, but no expression in her face.

Gwyn cleared his throat. "Excuse me?"

She wiped a little dirt off her hands with a piece of cloth and folded it neatly.

"How can I help you?" she asked. Her voice was clear and fresh, but there was no particular tone to it. Her eyes were his father's eyes, there was no doubt about it. The only difference was the sparkle. Bryce's eyes always seemed to smile. Elissa's eyes felt distant and cold.

"I… I…" What could he say? He held onto the doll and Elissa saw it.

"I once had a doll like that," she said.

"This is yours. It's your doll. My father wanted me to give it back to you," Gwyn blurted out.

"Who is your father?"

"Bryce… Bryce Cousland."

"Bryce is my brother. So you are family."

"I'm your nephew, yes," Gwyn sighed. "My name is Gwyn. I have a twin sister, Nerissa, and an older brother, Fergus."

"Your father is my older brother."

"Yes! He gave me the doll so that you'd have it."

"Why?"

"It's yours."

"It was mine once. After I was made Tranquil, I had no more need for impractical things."

"It's not impractical, it's-! It's…"

"I remember sending this back to my hometown many years ago."

"You…?"

"I sent it back because I did not need it anymore. I did not fear the dark any longer."

"But it's yours… You can always keep it," Gwyn despaired.

"I have no need for it."

They went silent for a while. And then she spoke again.

"How can I help you?"

Gwyn understood that he would not get much more from her.

* * *

He left the room, feeling like he had failed, doll in hand. He saw Torrian in the distance, sitting cross-legged on a crate, talking to a tall woman. He walked over there slowly, trying to put a smile in his face. When he got there, Torrian went silent and got off the crate. He stood by Gwyn and said, "This is my sister, Solona. Solona, this is Gwyn."

The woman's hair was golden, and she had a peaceful expression in her face. Her eyes resembled Torrian's, except for the sparkle. It was not there.

"Pleased to meet you, Gwyn." Her voice was hollow, just like Elissa's.

Gwyn looked at Torrian but he did not look back. He just said, "Solona has been working with Ines for two years now, and her skill for brewing potions in a very short time is very much appreciated here."

Solona bowed her head. "I prefer working on healing potions," she stated.

Gwyn felt incredibly sad. "That's… very nice, Solona."

"Gwyn's aunt is your companion – Elissa. Try not to gossip about us when you're together, will you?" Torrian kissed his sister on the cheek.

"I do not gossip, Torrian."

"I know, sis. I'll come back next week. Take care!"

Torrian walked away quickly. Gwyn caught up with him in the corridor that connected the area to the rest of the tower.

"Torrian, wait! Wait, please…" He was out of breath. Maker, Anders was right. He needed some exercise.

Torrian stopped but did not turn around. Gwyn put a hand on his shoulder and Torrian's back shook. Soft, well-controlled sobs that had become quiet over the years, so that nobody would see him crying over the sister he had lost. He turned around and Gwyn hugged him the way Eleanor had held him every night he had nightmares.

"I'm here…" Gwyn said, letting Torrian rest his head on his shoulder. And he listened to the tale of the Amells: a respectable family from the Free Marches that had fallen from grace ever since magic had corrupted the bloodline, becoming pariahs, losing their estates to misfortune and their children to the Circle more and more often. His mother had been devastated when his sister had shown signs of magic, but then he had been born, and everything was better until, at the age of seven, little Torrian Amell had drained everyone's energy during a Wintersend celebration. Her heart broke the day he was taken from home, and news of her death arrived one month later. But at least he had had his sister for some years, until she discovered that she was with child.

"How…?"

"... I trust you know _how_."

"I thought that here… Anyway, what happened to the baby?"

"We never saw it. It was taken away, and my sister's nerves suffered because of it. There was an accident with some apprentices she was tutoring and it was decided that it would be safer to make her this way."

"I'm sorry."

"I am too."

Gwyn offered Torrian his hand and the boy took it gratefully.

"I'm here for you. I won't say anything about this."

"I know. Thank you," Torrian smiled. "It's been good to have you around, you know? It feels like… home."

Gwyn nodded. He understood.

* * *

"Where were you?" Neria asked Torrian. "Enchanter Leorah asked me when you were coming and if there was something wrong with you this morning! You should have told me you would not be coming. Why are your eyes red? Have you been crying?"

"Neria, would you like to have this?" Gwyn interrupted. He offered the doll to her.

"Oh, is that…? A gryphon? Oh! Isn't it beautiful? Thank you so much, Gwyn!"

"You're welcome. Its name is Dagda, but you can change it."

"Oh, no no no! There's no need, I love it!" And she walked away, talking to the doll as if it was a living animal.

Torrian looked at Gwyn and even though he did not smile, the warmth in his eyes expressed his feelings a thousand times better than any words he could have said.

**Next: The Mabari**


	10. The Mabari

**The Mabari**

Nerissa wiped a tear and looked into the distance. The breeze was steady and cool – it played with her long hair, sometimes covering her face, as she looked upon the ocean. There was something about the horizon that gave her serenity.

The last year had been hard. After Gwyn had been taken away from them, Eleanor had turned to her for comfort, but at the same time, she had become overprotective and watchful. Nerissa did not have a moment for herself: her mother's eyes were on her everywhere she went. The chapel, the dining hall, the social gatherings – she was starting to feel like her mother's lap dog.

She missed her twin brother. She had never thought it would be so difficult to be apart. It was the everyday things she missed the most: his smile, his quietness, his hand in hers when they went into town. Fergus always made them hold hands. He had even tied their hands together once, the first time they tried to run away. For the next visit to the town centre, Fergus had tied his own hand to Nerissa's. He had the suspicion that she was the instigator. He was right.

She felt lonely. Bryce had told her that unless something extraordinary happened, no visitors were allowed in Kinloch Hold. She had stood in the rain during a particularly vicious storm, scantily clad, hoping that she would get so sick that Gwyn would be taken back home to say goodbye before she died. She only caught a cold that left her sniffling for many weeks.

Nerissa took off her boots and walked ahead. The waves kissed her feet, her knees, her hips, her waist… He heard Fergus calling her from afar. She turned towards him and walked out of the water reluctantly. He had come running, holding her robe in his hands.

"What do you think you're doing?" Fergus asked, out of breath. He covered her shoulders with the robe, carefully holding her hair.

"It's not that cold, Fergus. Besides, it's summertime."

"You're wearing your new dress."

"Would you rather I swam naked?"

"Don't be cheeky, monkey. Mother's waiting for you."

"I know. I just… I felt like swimming."

"You don't know how to swim in the sea."

"You never taught me." As they walked side by side, Nerissa's eyes searched for the spot where the Demon had appeared and spat in that direction.

"I didn't teach you that either," Fergus barked. "Don't do that in front of Mum. Or ever again, for that matter."

She did not answer. Most of the face was covered by her hair now. Fergus stopped walking and stood in front of her. And then it hit him. She was just lonely. He knew that his younger siblings were close not only because of their age, but because they were twins. Eleanor had often said that she felt left out when they were together. Fergus had always felt that way.

"Hey…" He put a finger under her chin and made her look at him. "I miss him too, sis." His voice was soft and gentle now, just like their father's. Nerissa's throat tightened. She did not want to cry again. Fergus held her and brought her close to his chest. He was much taller than she was. He kissed the top of her head and rocked her gently. She clung to his sleeves, her right eye still observing the fateful spot.

After a while, she pushed him apart gently. She took the dagger from the waistband and handed it to Fergus.

"Cut my hair," she told him.

"What?" Fergus was puzzled. He hoped she was joking.

"_Cut. My. Hair._" There was no smile on her face.

"Are you crazy? Mum's going to k-"

"It's my hair, not Mum's. My hair, my decision. Cut it."

Fergus took the sharp dagger awkwardly. "Wh-What length?"

"Chin."

Fergus stood behind her. He gathered a fistful of hair and yanked it enough so that it would be tight. He put the dagger underneath the hair and in a swift movement, he cut it. It took him two or three times, but he managed to give her a decent haircut. Nerissa took a step forward and shook her head.

"Much better," she sighed.

Fergus thought she looked very much like Gwyn now, and wondered if his head would roll when Eleanor saw what Nerissa had done.

* * *

Brother and sister spent the summer together, finally getting to know each other. Fergus was not as prudish as Nerissa had always thought. He made terrible jokes. He laughed loudly. He was not afraid of being coarse when he was with her. He taught her how to swim and how to dance, and when winter came, he hired a bard so that she could learn how to play a lute properly. Her fingers worked on the strings in such a beautiful way that the bard suggested she accompany her tunes with lyrics.

"She's a crow," Fergus whimpered, during her first recital.

"Oh? Ah, you don't mean… Oh, shush," Oriana said, slapping his hand. "She's not that bad."

"I think you've gone deaf from hearing Oren's bawling every night," Fergus stated.

"Well, someone has to hear him, right? Especially since your snoring is so loud and sudden that the poor little guy gets startled several times during the night."

"Psst! Fergus got that from his mother," Bryce muttered, smiling at Nerissa while she continued singing.

"Bryce!" Eleanor slapped him twice on the knee.

"Oriana hit Fergus once – why do I get two slaps?" Bryce complained.

"Because your daughter is singing and you're talking, and because I never snore!" Eleanor hissed.

"Fergus should get two slaps, then: he's the one who brought in the bard so that she would learn," Bryce said, reaching out and slapping the back of Fergus's head.

Nerissa finished her song and everyone stood up and clapped. She looked at her family seriously and said, "I sing like shit."

Eleanor and Oriana slapped Fergus.

* * *

The year went by, and it was summer again. After Nerissa's fourteenth birthday, she asked for permission to go into town on her own, which caused lengthy discussions between Fergus and Eleanor – Bryce simply refused to meddle into that affair and spent most of the day playing with little Oren.

"What if something happens to her?" Eleanor's voice showed genuine concern.

"Mother, everybody knows her. She's probably safer there than in one of your spring salons, where people get drunk and flirt shamelessly," Fergus shuddered.

"Oh dear; Landra again? I didn't realize…"

"Every single time," Fergus sighed. "Thankfully, Oriana always shows up and leads her away. I owe her two new dresses for the last time."

Eleanor grimaced. "Maybe I should say something to her next time but… Oh, I don't know, darling. I think I'd feel safer if you go with her. What about sending Roderick with her?"

"He's terrified of her," Fergus grumbled, and immediately wished he could unsay the words.

"What?" Eleanor's hearing seemed to be getting better and better every day.

"Er… I mean… He's… He's a very proper boy, and… He'd probably feel uncomfortable if he was to be… alone with her." Fergus crossed his fingers behind his back, hoping that Eleanor would not inquiry further.

_(During Roderick Gilmore's first week with the Couslands, Oriana had told Fergus that Nerissa was observing Gilmore with unusual interest._

_ "She's not very discreet," Oriana murmured, struggling with Oren and his winter clothes._

_Fergus raised an eyebrow. "I… don't know how to respond to that, my love. You mean she should hide whatever intentions she has but still carry them out?"_

"Mi amor,"_ Oriana said patronizingly, patting his left cheek before returning to Oren and his tantrum. _

_Fergus started watching Nerissa more closely, and yes, there it was: a chuckle, a smile; she played with her hair and brushed against his arm lightly whenever he was around. Poor Rory Gilmore blushed and giggled nervously. One day, Fergus saw him going towards the stables, and Nerissa sneaking in right behind him. He hurried his steps, but before he got there, Roderick dashed out, bumping into him._

_"Is everything okay?" Fergus asked the boy._

_"Y-y-yes, m-milord. I-I-I have to g-g-go," the horrified boy stammered._

_Fergus went in the stables and found Nerissa fixing her clothes._

_"What… Nerissa, what did just happen?" He was not sure he wanted to know._

_"I gave Rory some bosom appreciation time," she smiled._

_"What? Andraste's ass, why… Why would you do that? Are you crazy?"_

_"Relax, brother. It took me some time, but I think I've finally managed to scare him." She fixed her hair and kissed her brother on the cheek before going out._

_"Nerissa!" Fergus was shocked._

_Nerissa stopped at the door and looked at him over her shoulder. "Don't you think I know what our dear mother plans to do with him? Father may have brought him to the castle to give him training, but Mother… I won't have someone spying on me, Fergus. And I don't need an escort either." She turned around to face him. "The more she pushes, the more I'll fight back.")_

"… such a nice boy," Eleanor was saying. Fergus nodded distractedly.

For a month, Nerissa travelled around with Eleanor. They visited distant relatives and acquaintances; they bought exotic items in Denerim and met important families. Lady Bryland and her daughter Habren were there for All Soul's Day, as well as Lady Howe and Delilah. Nerissa sat by her mother's side, all prim and proper, and smiled diligently.

The first thing she asked the morning after they got back to the castle was, "Am I allowed to go into town tomorrow?"

"Darling," Eleanor sighed, "Lady Landra and Lady Myrtle are coming next week. We have a lot of preparations to see to, and-"

"But mother!"

"And I need you to help me. We'll have fun together, you'll see." Eleanor stroked her daughter's cheek.

Nerissa lowered her head. "Yes, mother. I'll go swimming with Fergus, if that's alright with you?"

"Certainly, dear. Have a good time."

"I will," Nerissa smiled.

* * *

"I brought Nerissa the laces she needed," Fergus said, poking his head into the women's room, right before lunch. "Where is she?"

Eleanor put down her sewing. "I thought she had gone swimming with you."

"What? No. She said she couldn't go into town, and she needed some laces to fix some torn part of her red dress."

Eleanor and Oriana stared into each other's eyes, sharing a look of realization.

* * *

Bryce and Fergus ran to the beach, where they found Nerissa's boots and clothes. Nerissa was nowhere to be seen.

"Maker, what was she thinking?" Fergus started removing his clothes, ready to dive in and search for her.

Bryce observed the landscape silently. There was a set of footprints leading into the water. By now they had been practically washed off the sand. His daughter was not as impulsive as his wife thought – that much he knew. After all, sending Fergus away –so that Eleanor would not see him in the castle– had been a clever idea. He wondered how long she had been planning to escape, and felt sorry for her. Fergus was a man now – he had his own family, and even though Eleanor loved little Oren, she still considered Nerissa to be the baby of the house. Bryce knew that Nerissa was not as happy as she appeared to be, and regretted having let Eleanor handle her as if she was a doll. For a moment he had thought that his daughter was genuinely content. But he should have known better. He should have known what her silences meant. He should have recognized the veiled look of disappointment in her face every time a messenger came to the castle and brought nothing for her. She had never stopped writing to Gwyn, even though none of her letters ever received a reply.

"She's going to the Circle," Bryce said to himself.

A half-naked Fergus raised his head. "What?"

"She's going to the tower to see Gwyn." Bryce looked around once more, and walked away.

Fergus cocked his head to the right, trying to make sense of his father's words. Surely she knew that it was not possible to swim to Lake Calenhad from there…? Suddenly he heard Bryce's laughter and went over to see what had been so funny.

Bryce was standing on a rock formation, holding a wet robe.

"Sneaky little thing," he smiled to himself.

"What's that?" Fergus asked.

"No wonder there wasn't a second pair of footsteps coming out of the sea. She climbed the rocks. And this here," he took a little bundle of wet undergarments, "this is what she was wearing when she came out of the water."

"So… What now? Is she stark naked?"

"No. She brought some clothes with her, left them here, took off her clothes and got in the sea. She swam to these rocks and got changed. And now she's gone."

"The Circle's half a day away," Fergus noted. "The night might find her in the middle of the forest."

"Yes… Unless she's in the town. Let's get the horses. And listen: if you come across your mother… Maker help us. What will we tell her?"

"That she went into town on her own. She'll probably be there, anyway."

"Let's hope so."

* * *

Nerissa was confident about her plan. She walked into town with a smile painted on her face. She greeted the apothecary's daughters, Ava and Alice, and pointed discreetly to the back of their house.

"We were expecting you tomorrow," Alice said. "Plans change, apparently."

"It's a good thing papa got the mare ready this morning – hopefully he will not use it again today," Ava said. "You know, for a moment, I didn't think you'd make it this far."

"Neither did I," Nerissa confessed. "But I feel lucky today. Are you sure this won't get you in trouble?"

Ava sighed. "It probably will, and I still don't completely approve of your idea. But I think that if I really wanted to see my sisters," she nodded towards Alice, "I'd do the same. Of course, Helena's less irritating than Alice, so I'd definitely do it for her."

"Here," Alice said, giving Ava a nasty look and Nerissa a small bundle. "Two apples and some walnuts, in case you're hungry."

Nerissa remembered that was Gwyn's favourite snack and felt a twitch in the pit of her stomach. "What will you tell Fergus if he comes asking for me?"

"Do you really think he'll ask me anything?" Ava laughed. "You managed to scare him off with that tale of how my poor heart broke when he got married. Every time he's in town, he lowers his head as if he felt sorry about it and avoids me like the plague."

"How else could I have kept him away from our plotting?" Nerissa smirked.

"And there's a little truth in that, Ava," Alice said. "It's obvious you like him."

"Who doesn't?" Ava replied, rolling her eyes, as if liking Fergus was the most natural thing in the world.

"Don't worry, Nerissa; we won't tell him anything," Alice said.

"I don't want you to lie for me. Just… delay him. If he's on his own, it'll work. However, if my father's with him…"

"We can't lie to the Teyrn," Ava said firmly.

"I wasn't going to suggest that. If my father's with him, he'll know where he can find me."

"Why do this, then?"

"I only want a chance to try," Nerissa replied.

* * *

Once she had made it across West Hill, Nerissa gave a sigh of relief and allowed herself to relax a bit. The area was said to be haunted, but her ride had not got upset, and Nerissa thought that animals had a special sensitivity for those things. The mare was slightly slower than Nerissa would have wanted, but she had made good progress and was confident she would reach the inn before nightfall. How the people there would react to her presence, she had no idea. She could always sleep by the inn instead. It would still be safer than the woods.

And in the morning, she would ask the ferryman to take her to Kinloch Hold. What was the name of the Knight-Commander? Grigor? Gregor? Greagoir. _Knight-Commander Greagoir_. She would ask him to see her brother. No. Apprentice Gwyn, _formerly_ Gwyn Cousland. She had to get her speech right.

So absorbed was she in trying to find the right words that she missed to see that her ride had taken her right into Bann Loren's lands.

* * *

Yes, Helena had said, Lady Cousland had been there, and her younger sisters had given her a horse so that she would go to Lake Calenhad. Alice's teary eyes confirmed that Helena had managed to extract the information from her sisters using painfully persuasive resources.

Bryce and Fergus rode on, southwards.

* * *

"Melcha, good girl," Leonard Loren said, patting the head of the mabari before getting on his horse. The animal barked appreciatively and panted. Her puppies were around her, wagging their tails and hopping playfully.

"Where are we taking them today?" his brother Dairren asked, riding his horse.

"They need some exercise. We should take them to the low hills near the northern border. It should take us an hour."

"Don't you think the puppies are too young for that?" Dairren said apprehensively.

"Are you talking about the puppies or yourself?" Leonard mocked his younger brother. "Come on, let's go."

* * *

He was trying hard to keep up, but his legs were short and not as strong as his mother's. She encouraged him and his brothers to keep going, because this was part of their training. The men rode and they followed. He was not sure how far they would have to go, but there was a butterfly flying in front of him, and the movement of the wings was swift and pretty. Flitting away, flitting closer. The fluttering of its wings was so pretty to look at.

So absorbed was he in the fluttering of the butterfly's wings that he failed to see that his pack had taken a sharp turn, and down the hill he rolled, his whole world turning and turning until he hit a tree, and the world went black.

* * *

Nerissa heard the bump against the tree against which she was resting while she was eating her snack. She stood up quickly and took her dagger. Silence. She walked around the tree and saw it. A mabari puppy. It was not moving. She knelt down and took it in her arms, looking around for his pack. A mabari puppy surely meant that some nobleman was around.

She felt a spine-tingling chill running down her body. _What a weird feeling,_ she thought. And then she looked down. The puppy was staring at her.

* * *

The young woman was looking around for his family. He knew it. She had held him in her arms and taken care of him. He suddenly looked into her eyes and felt happy to be with her, because she was protecting him. He sniffed once, and then twice.

He wondered who would protect her –no, _them_ now– from the wolves.

* * *

Nerissa heard the howling. "There's your mama!" Her voice was cheerful and completely oblivious to the fact that whatever was making that noise, it was not the mabari pack. She felt the puppy tensing and growling. She had heard that mabari hounds were particularly perceptive. Its ears switched from laidback to upright. The mare snorted and her legs got restless.

"That's not your mama, right?" She put the puppy on the horse and mounted quickly.

* * *

"What's wrong with her?" Dairren asked.

"I have no idea. Melcha! Melcha, come back!" Leonard rode after his mabari. The dog had rounded up her puppies and once they were secured, she had sprinted away. "Dairren, look after the pups. Father will kill me if we lose them!"

Dairren got off his horse and petted the dogs, who were now whimpering. Suddenly he saw them lay back their ears and they started barking. The biggest puppy dashed after his mother and the rest followed.

"Oh no, no, no, why me?" Dairren said, before getting back on the horse and riding after the puppies.

* * *

Nerissa did not dare go down the road she had been following, so she turned the horse around and rode northwards again. At least she knew the way. The puppy had started snarling and she hoped that she would succeed in escaping from whatever pack was chasing after her. And then she heard the barking and the hooves. The puppy had heard them as well, because it was now barking back. She pressed the heels against the mare's sides and leaned forward. She began to feel unsteady. One of her hands was on the reins and the other on the mabari. She looked back and saw three, no, four wolves behind her.

The mare dashed through the low trees and one of the branches caught Nerissa's cloak, throwing her off her ride. She fell on her back and for a matter of seconds, she felt dazed. The mabari pup was licking her face. She got on her feet and her fingers found the hilt of the dagger. The wolves were near.

An arrow whirred past her and struck the first wolf. She turned around and saw a young man on horseback, and his formidable hound running so fast that it felt like a blur. The dog caught the injured wolf by the neck and threw it against a group of rocks. The other three wolves snarled and lowered their back menacingly, sizing the hound. They were about to jump over the mabari when they heard the group growling. Nerissa thought it was certainly impressive to see the pack, even if they were mostly puppies. Puppies that were baring their teeth and growling deeply. A second man dashed forward, short sword in hand, and the wolves ran away.

He trotted back to where Nerissa was and got off his horse.

"Are you alright?" He offered her his hand. She took it and nodded, still overwhelmed. She had been so close and yet so far. Maybe it was not meant to be. Maybe she should not have disobeyed. _Someday,_ she thought.

"You were lucky we were around, girl," the older one said. "Is that one of ours, Melcha?"

"Maybe that's what she was looking for," the younger one said. The mabari hound barked and reunited with her puppy, licking it all over.

"It seems to have taken a bit of a tumble," Nerissa said. "Thank you for helping me out. It appears that my journey to the lake will have to be postponed."

"Lake Calenhad? You've taken a wrong turn. These are our lands," the older one said and dismounted. "My name's Leonard Loren."

"You're Bann Loren's son?"

"Indeed I am. This is my brother, Dairren. And you are…?"

"Nerissa Cousland."

Dairren gave his brother a quick look. "The Teyrn's daughter?"

"I don't recall seeing you in the last gathering," Leonard frowned.

"I've just turned fourteen," Nerissa said defensively.

"Ah, that explains a lot. These are our dogs."

Nerissa nodded. "I seem to remember my mother saying that the Lorens breed them."

"We do. If I may ask, milady…" Leonard started.

"I was going to Lake Calenhad," Nerissa spoke quickly.

"But… It's highly unusual to see the daughter of the Teyrn of Highever without an escort."

"It's not our business, is it, Leonard?" Dairren spoke softly. He had a kind face. "Maybe we should escort her back to Highever."

"That's quite the journey," Leonard said, looking up. "And it's getting pretty late."

"Maybe you can escort me to the crossroads? I'm sure… I'm sure I'll find my family there."

The puppy that she had held was prancing around her, yapping happily. "Hey, little fellow," she knelt and scratched behind his ears, "You were very brave. You'll be a great dog one day."

The puppy licked her hand and wagged his tail broadly, from left to right. Dairren noticed it and pointed it out to his brother.

"The dog has imprinted, milady."

When Nerissa raised her eyebrows, Dairren explained, "He has chosen you as his master. From now on, he'll respond to you."

"Oh, but I… I didn't mean to… It's – He's yours," Nerissa babbled.

"Not anymore," Leonard said. "Even if we took it from you, he'd find a way to go back to where you are. He'll serve you well, milady. And when he's older, he'll be that extra protection you seem to need. I assure you, you won't need an escort if he's around."

Nerissa looked at the dog – he was standing on his hind legs, and his lips were curved in a funny way, as if he was smiling. "I'll tell my father to pay you for him, don't worry."

"That's not a problem, milady," Dairren said, trying to ignore his brother's piercing look.

* * *

They escorted her to the crossroads, where the mare had taken the wrong turn. Nerissa was holding the puppy in her arms, in spite of Leonard's protests.

"You shouldn't pamper him, milady. He's not a lap dog," he warned her.

"Ooh, we're more alike than I thought," she said, nuzzling the puppy. Dairren laughed, much to his brother's dismay. Leonard was about to say something when he heard something in the distance. He raised his hand and signaled them to hide behind some trees. Two horses were drawing closer to their location. Nerissa and the two boys retreated to the side of the road, and that's when she saw her father and brother zooming by, in direction to Lake Calenhad.

"Father!" Nerissa shouted, and the puppy howled.

She heard the horses neighing and Nerissa's mare nickered in return. Bryce and Fergus caught up with the group of three in a matter of seconds.

"Nerissa…" Bryce said, getting off the horse and reaching out for his daughter. Nerissa dismounted and hugged her father. He kissed her forehead but said nothing. His daughter knew that he had understood why she had run away. The puppy got caught between them and whimpered softly.

Fergus nodded at the two Lorens. "Thank you for taking care of my sister. Now, if only you could protect her when she meets our mother again..."

"She already has a protector, milord. That mabari has imprinted on her."

Bryce looked at the puppy. He poked his snout and the puppy nibbled on his finger.

"I'm afraid I can't pay for it now. But your mother is coming to Highever next week, right? Perhaps one of you can accompany her and collect the coin."

"That would be pleasant, Your Lordship," Leonard said.

"I'll give you something extra for having escorted my daughter," Bryce said.

"That's not necessary," Dairren protested, but Bryce raised his right hand.

"Nonsense. I'll expect you next week, then."

Leonard bowed and got back on his horse. He and his brother nodded at the Couslands and rode away.

The impressive mabari, however, remained behind. Nerissa left the puppy on the floor and stepped back. The hound sniffed at her puppy and licked him a couple of times, and then she trotted away, followed by the rest of the litter. The puppy looked at them until they had disappeared, and then looked back at Nerissa. She held him again and mounted back.

"What shall I name you, little one? You're a boy… It would be inappropriate to call you Maric, wouldn't it?"

"Very," Bryce chuckled.

"What about Calenhad?" The puppy snorted. "Hm, I'll take that as a _no_, then. Matthew?" Snort. "Qunari?" Snort.

"It could be a long ride home," Fergus murmured to his father.

The puppy started munching on Nerissa's cloak until his teeth pierced through the fabric. "Stop it, Robert! Tamlen! Maferath! Virgil!" The puppy stopped and barked. "Virgil?" Bark. "You like Virgil?" Bark bark.

"It's a good name. Goodness, resilience, success. Everything you can wish for in a mabari," Bryce smiled.

"And everything he'll need to have to face Mother Dragon," Fergus joked.

"Maybe we should get some mabari dogs for ourselves, son," Bryce said.

"If this one can protect Nerissa from Mum successfully, I'll get a whole pack to deal with Oriana," Fergus chuckled. "You don't want to know how we found you, monkey?"

"No need. I knew Dad would know," Nerissa said, looking at her father proudly. "Although I wasn't expecting the wolves – otherwise, I would have succeeded."

"Wolves?" Fergus asked.

"Let's… Let's leave that part out of the story when we tell your mother, shall we?" Bryce reached out to pat his daughter's head. "Come on, we should speed up if we want to get back to Highever by midnight."

"It'll be a long night," Fergus sighed. "And the riding's not even the worst bit."

Nerissa secured the puppy and dug her heels into her ride's flank. The mare leapt forward and the three horses rode away, together.

**Next chapter: Nathaniel**


	11. Nathaniel

**Nathaniel**

_Nerissa stormed out of the room and scrambled down the stairs, avoiding the bodies on the floor and the pungent smell of the dirty place. She ran into the dusky streets of Lowtown, away from the tavern where she had spent the last hour, and took a right turn. She almost tumbled down the steps leading to the docks – blinded by tears and rage, she screamed and cursed, but she went on. Only when she got to the docks, in front of the water, did she allow herself to stop and rest._

_She tried to sit down, but the pain was unbearable. Her legs were trembling. Her whole body was pulsating, and for a while she felt that it did not belong to her anymore. She felt uncomfortable in her own skin. The place between her legs felt sticky. She looked around to see if there was someone coming, but the few people that were nearby did not seem to care. She breathed in and out slowly, trying to recover and calm down, and she managed to sit on one of the broad steps. Cautiously, she slipped a hand under her skirt and reached for whatever was trickling down her inner thighs. She winced and withdrew her hand. She looked at her fingers, now covered in a gooey bloody substance, and gagged. She got back on her feet, painfully, picked up her skirt and got in the water. The waves washed her gently, and when she felt composed, she got out of the water and looked for the way back to Hightown._

_The stall vendors were collecting their wares, closing their shops till the following day. The silk trader recognized her and bowed, offering her something special he had just received from Tevinter: amethyst violet velvet. Would she take it? It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; Nerissa made use of the time the trader took to fold the velvet to think of a way to account for her absence. What would Bryce say? The last thing she wanted was to make him worry about her again._

_She paid for the velvet and went back to the estate where they were staying. The manservant opened the door for her and silently acknowledged the state of Nerissa's clothes. Nerissa walked on and reached her room. There, she cleaned herself and changed her clothes. After brushing her hair and putting a smile on her face, she went to Lord Friedrich's study room, where she knew Bryce would be. She knocked on the door and curtsied, her eyes fixed on the floor. Bryce excused himself and accompanied her to her room._

_"I have something to tell you, and you won't like it, Dad." Her eyes were glistening, almost feverishly. Bryce sat down next to her, held her hand between his, and nodded encouragingly._

* * *

"Can I go with you?"

"To Kirkwall? It will be boring, pup. All trading and money."

"I don't mind, really. I can take Virgil," she kissed his snout and he licked her cheek, "and I could learn about life in the Free Marches. Aren't you intrigued by the political game there?"

"Have you been eavesdropping on my conversations with Fergus?"

"A little," she winked. "And I'm rather fascinated by it. Please?"

"I think you should stay with your mother," Bryce stroked her cheek.

"Why? Fergus and Oriana are staying here! Why must I spend all my time with her? I want to go with you, dad." She gave him a sad look. "Many years ago I asked you to let me stay with you, and you made me go to South Reach with her. It was a mistake. Now I'm asking you to let me go with you. Please."

"What do you mean 'a mistake'? I don't recall-"

"You can't remember what you never learnt."

"Nerissa…"

"Please." She sounded serious. "If you let me go with you, I'll tell you about it."

"That's not fair, pup. If this is serious, I must know."

"_Please_."

Bryce hesitated. Knowing Eleanor, she would probably insist on going with them. But of course, that was not what his daughter wanted. She needed to get away for some time, and she was letting him know that if he went to Kirkwall on his own, she would probably find a way to make Eleanor's life difficult while he was gone.

"Very well," he grunted. "I'll tell your mother you're coming with me."

Bryce thought about the best way to tell Eleanor the news. A few days later, little Oren caught a mysterious disease and both Oriana and Eleanor were so terribly worried about him that when Bryce told Eleanor that he would be taking Nerissa away to prevent her from falling sick as well, Eleanor quickly agreed.

* * *

On the way over to the Free Marches, Nerissa opened her heart and told Bryce what had happened five years before. Bryce listened, asking a few questions every time she deviated from the topic.

"You should have told us, Nerissa. It was nobody's fault, but you two put yourselves at unnecessary risk."

"I thought that the moment we said something, Gwyn would be taken away from us."

"And look what happened later on! It could have been more serious; thank the Maker for Fergus!" Bryce sighed heavily. "Believe me; I understand what you and Gwyn thought at the moment. It's exactly what I felt when Elissa first showed signs of magic. I felt that my father would never understand. But he did, and he showed me what could happen if we kept her at home. Magic is a real danger if there's nobody there to teach the mage how to use it properly. It's a wild thing. You know, I've always remembered my father's words before Elissa was taken away: he said that both of us deserved a chance to live our lives free from that fear, that uncertainty of knowing whether things were normal or right or…" Bryce spoke slowly, hoping that his daughter would understand his words and remember them once and for all. "I tried to be different from my father in many aspects, Nerissa, but he was right about that one. And you could have told me. That's what bothers me the most. How many times have we talked about doing what's right?"

"All the time," Nerissa looked away.

"And there's always a good reason for that. It forces us to think, to assess what our priorities are, to separate what's necessary from-"

"And what about what's good for us? Everybody does what's good for them."

"We are not 'everybody', my child. We are Couslands. You know our story. I'm sure that at the very least, brother Aldous taught you that." He held her hands in his and kissed them. "It's not an easy life, pup. But it's something to live by. And you can always learn to love your duties."

* * *

Young Max Friedrich was a minor nobleman who had engaged in business with Highever and Amaranthine frequently in the previous years. He was keen on receiving Bryce and his daughter; it was his chance to return the attentions he had received in Castle Cousland some years before. He had just got married and his wife was a very sweet little woman who was a few years older than Nerissa. At the moment, she was just recovering from a miscarriage, and was glad to have the company of another female in the house.

The first few days flew by. Lady Friedrich took the girl shopping for silks and trinkets, and they were invited over for refreshments to the De Launcets' and the Harimanns'. Nerissa played the lute for her hosts and danced with the girls of the other families. And then Lady Arenberg suggested she and Bryce should definitely go over for dinner in a few days' time.

Nerissa put on her green velvet dress, and decorated her hair with an embrium flower. Bryce offered her his arm and off they went to the Arenbergs'. Nerissa's gait was almost rushed, and Bryce smiled at his daughter's barely contained excitement. He congratulated himself for having listened to her. Every night they had had time to sit together and talk about many things, and he discovered that, in spite of her impetuousness, she was capable of reasoning much better than Fergus when it came to politics and social relations.

His daughter was becoming a woman. The thought of it saddened him a little.

* * *

"I am terribly sorry, Teyrn Cousland," Lady Arenberg apologized. "My husband and son were supposed to be back from their practice by now, but they seem to have been delayed."

"Oh, do not worry, Lady Arenberg. We men get distracted easily more often than not, and we keep you ladies waiting for us when you've made wonderful arrangements for our entertainment." Bryce kissed her hand. "I apologize on behalf of my fellow men."

"Oh, the things you say!" Lady Arenberg blushed. Bryce led their hostess into the hall where the other guests were waiting for the banquet to start and before he disappeared into the room, he turned around and winked at his daughter. She shook her head and laughed softly, and she remained behind, admiring the pictures.

She drifted into a side corridor, absorbed in the paintings, when she heard a click behind her, coming from a bookcase. She stepped back and hid around the corner. The bookcase opened like a door. Three men tiptoed into the house, an older man and two younger men behind him.

"Shush!" The older one said. "She'll kill us if she sees us coming in from here."

"Then shut your mouth, dad," the second man giggled. Nerissa thought he sounded a bit like Uncle Leonas when he had one too many. But it was the third man that caught her attention. Dark hair, a well-built body, and an overall roguish look.

The third man stood upright. "There's someone here," he said, and turned around.

Nerissa stuck her back to the wall, hoping that he would not see her.

But he did.

"Who…? _Milady Cousland?_" He was frowning, trying to put together the image of the girl he had seen some years before with the young woman that was standing in front of him.

"Nathaniel?" Nerissa beamed and her eyes lit up. "It _is_ you!"

"_Cousland?_" The older man sounded horrified. "Shit, they're here already; your mother _is_ going to kill us after all! My apologies, young lady." He took his son by the shirt and dragged him away.

"I guess I'll see you again at the table, then," Nathaniel smiled at her and dashed away.

"Yes…" Nerissa murmured. His shirt was dirty on the back, and the sleeves were rolled up over the shoulders, giving her a view of his muscled arms. She watched him until he was out of sight. _Maker,_ she thought, _he _is_ an attractive fellow. _Gwyn's voice sounded in her head.

_"Too bad he's a Howe."_

* * *

He washed his hair, changed his clothes, and went down for dinner. He entered the dining hall and his eyes wandered off, looking for the Couslands among the party of guests. If his father knew, he would probably object. But that was the good thing about being far from home – he had more freedom than he had ever imagined. He found Nerissa talking to Bryce, and walked over to where they were.

"Nathaniel Howe," Bryce said, shaking Nathaniel's hand warmly. "How's Kirkwall treating you?"

"No complaints, milord. The Arenbergs have been very gracious hosts."

"How's the archery going?"

"It's greatly improved. I've also acquired other skills that complement it."

"Oh? I'd like to know more about that," Bryce nodded. "Perhaps we can talk about it later, or maybe we can meet tomorrow?"

"That would please me, milord. Milady," He bowed and returned to his hosts.

"He's not bad," Bryce elbowed Nerissa.

"No. Not bad," she said blankly.

* * *

Lady Arenberg begged Nerissa to play the lute and sing for them, but Nerissa refused to play unless someone else sang. Lady Friedrich sang a ballad and Nerissa accompanied her. Nathaniel stood at the back by the fireplace, watching her. There was a certain joy in her face while she was playing, her left hand running up and down the neck of the instrument; her mouth half-opened in a smile, her head cocked towards the left, listening to the chords very closely. The body of the lute lay over her thighs, and the fingers of her right hand stroked the strings on its belly skillfully, swiftly, caressing and _Maker what was he thinking._ She was just a girl.

He rushed his drink, shook his head and realized that the song was finished. He clapped politely, and before the women left the room, he approached her.

"Well played, milady. I can see that your fingers have become quite dexterous."

"That they have," she chuckled.

"Er… I didn't mean…" Why was he blushing? His comment had not had a hidden intention, had it?

"Thank you, Nathaniel," she lowered her eyes and gave him a half-smile that made him quiver. She turned around and left him standing there, alone and confused.

* * *

His meeting with Bryce was brief. Bryce asked a couple of questions about his social life as well as his combat training.

"A rogue, eh? A chip off the old block," he said, laughing.

"I'm afraid my father will be disappointed. He's always wanted me to become a warrior like your son."

"We can't always decide for our children. We can only hope they know what's best for them. Fergus has always been one for managing men and coming up with strategies. Very much like my wife," Bryce said, wrinkling his nose.

"What about your other children?"

Bryce sighed and leaned back on his chair. He looked at Nathaniel, sizing him up. Nathaniel hid his face behind the goblet he had been nursing for some time now.

"Nerissa needs to know how to defend herself. This is what I've gathered from my time with her. We live in times of peace, but you never know what's waiting for you round the corner. We'll be staying in Kirkwall two more weeks. Do you think you could make her understand this?"

"I'm… sorry?"

"Unless I'm taking up too much of your time, I'd like you to teach her to defend herself."

"C-certainly," Nathaniel gulped the rest of the drink. "It's only two weeks, after all."

* * *

"_My father's_ idea," Nerissa repeated.

"Yes. And I agreed, of course. I'd like to think that my sister will one day do the same." Nathaniel said.

"Very well," she nodded. "When shall we start?"

"We can do it right now," he replied. Had he sounded too eager? "Er… Whenever you are ready, milady."

Nerissa laughed. "I was going to walk my dog around Lowtown. Would you mind accompanying me?"

"Not at all," he said, trying to relax. _Come on, she's just a girl. And she's not even beautiful. _But she was a woman._ No, she's just a girl. _But her body had changed.

She was wearing one of those robes that women wore in Kirkwall, with a hood that gave a veiled look of the face of the wearer. He offered her his arm, but she refused it.

"It's impossible to do that when Virgil is around," she giggled.

* * *

The dog did not like him.

He had never been very lucky with animals. Cats despised him. Dogs barked at him and he had never been good at interpreting whether they wanted to play or were genuinely mad at him. As a consequence, he had some scars on the back of the leg and on his right forearm.

"He is a little territorial," Nerissa explained. "But he's a very nice dog. Isn't that right, Vee?" She knelt down and scratched the dog's belly. The dog was completely entranced by his mistress, who was now running her fingernails over his belly in circles. Nathaniel looked away, trying to suppress any feelings that the action might have aroused.

They spent the afternoon at the Lowtown bazaar. He discovered that she was not afraid of speaking her mind, and she obviously loved her older brother. She spoke warmly of her family, and she had a soft spot for her little nephew. He helped her choose some treats to take him, now that they had received news that the boy was slowly recovering.

"I'm glad to see that you're doing what you love," she said, as they walked down the steps that took them to the docks.

"I don't know if this is what I love. I like to keep my options open."

"At least you have options," she pointed out.

"Well, yes. I suppose it's different for women," he admitted.

When he walked her home, she thanked him and said, "It's been nice to have you around. It's like having Fergus. I miss him. Andraste's ass, if you ever meet him, don't tell him I said that. And don't mention the mild swearing either. My mother would kill me."

"I won't," he laughed. _So she sees me like a big brother. Great,_ he thought bitterly.

Still, as he walked back to the Arenbergs', he felt better about it. Somehow, her words made him feel at ease, once again.

* * *

For the next ten days, he showed her how to defend herself against attacks from behind, and how to handle the dagger so that she would avoid cutting herself with it; how to stand and disarm an opponent, and how to fall properly, in case she was escaping from someone. She was a fast learner, but she lacked discipline, so he quickly overpowered her. Sometimes he found her proximity disturbing, the scent of embrium and honeysuckle emanating from the back of her neck whenever he stood behind her. Her fingers worked the string of the bow much better than before, but she said that she felt uncomfortable using that weapon, so they did not focus on that. They roamed around the city and talked and laughed. They were kindred spirits. He could feel that she craved freedom more than anything else. She thought that he was a sweet boy, in spite of the rugged appearance, and he smiled with his eyes.

"Your eyes!" Nerissa exclaimed one day that he had managed to pin her against a wall.

"What's wrong with them?" Nathaniel said, wishing she would look away.

"They look like a cloudy sky. It's a beautiful colour," she said gently.

"Th-Thank y-," he began to say, when he felt the dagger ready to sink between his ribs. She swiftly escaped under his arm, took the knife from his cinch, and laughed. She had outmaneuvered him.

"More flies with honey, eh?" Nathaniel grunted, feeling like a fool.

"Am I supposed to be sweet, sweet honey, then?" Her voice was somewhat teasing. _Here we go again, _he thought. He felt his insides melting.

"Yes… No. I mean," he cleared his throat, "because that would make me the fly."

She walked up to him and stood on the tip of her toes. "Not unless I was planning to catch you," she whispered in his ear.

_Don't do it,_ said a voice in his head. _She's a girl. She's a friend, and she trusts you._ He felt her hot breath on his neck. He closed his eyes and felt a torrent of blood rushing through his body. In one swift, sudden movement, he held her face in his hands and kissed her.

He opened his eyes and saw that she was staring at him, very briefly, before closing her own eyes. He passed his right arm around her waist and drew her closer to him, his left hand on the back of her head. Their mouths moved in perfect synchrony, their lips locked together. His left hand moved slowly down her back, and Nerissa gasped against his mouth, breaking the spell.

Nathaniel pushed her away, walking in circles, rubbing his face. What had he done? She was just a girl.

* * *

That night, neither of them was able to get some decent sleep. Nerissa's restless dreams had his face in them; his eyes, his raspy voice, his strong hands...

Nathaniel did what he had never done before: he went to the tavern and drank until he passed out.

* * *

They had arranged to meet at the docks beforehand. Nerissa was not sure if he would show up, considering that the previous afternoon he had sent her home alone. Her body ached, as if it had been awakened. She found herself aroused by the mere act of getting dressed, still feeling Nathaniel's hands on her body. She promised herself that she would not do embarrassing things. That would get both of them in trouble.

She left the house and strode towards the docks. There was no sign of him. She walked about for a while, but tried to stay close to where the people were. She sat on the broad steps leading into the green sea and looked on. There was a building in a small island, not far from the shore. That had to be The Gallows. She had heard the people of the city talking about the Circle and she had learnt that they could visit their mage relatives. If only Gwyn was there, instead of Kinloch Hold.

A long time went by. He had not come. She felt disappointed and frustrated. But maybe that was what her father considered 'doing what must be done' – Nathaniel had obviously thought about it and decided that meeting her was not right. She got back on her feet and walked towards the main exit of the docks.

She heard a commotion to her left. Someone was fighting in the alley. Her feet carried her towards the noise without giving her time to consider if it was the wisest thing to do. Only when she saw the bodies on the floor did she think about how careless she was.

There was a small group of three men left. Nathaniel was trying to find an opening to raise his longbow, but the men were fast. And then he heard her. "Leave him alone!" Her voice was quivering, but her hands were not. She had drawn her shortbow and was now tensing up. One of the men sniggered.

"Oh? And what will you do, doll?"

"I'm not a doll," she muttered and fired. The streaking arrow hit him in the chest, staggering him backwards. Nathaniel took advantage of the confusion and killed off the wounded man. One of the others leapt over Nathaniel, slashing the outer side of his arm before Nerissa had time to shoot him on the back of the neck. The last one, clearly outnumbered, managed to escape.

Nathaniel was exhausted. He had killed seven other men before she had found him, and seeing her there was not what he had expected. He fell on his knees and she ran towards him, calling his name before he blacked out.

When he came to, there was a guard looming over him. "You were lucky, son," the man said. "One can't be too careful around these gangs."

"Where's the girl?" Nathaniel's mouth felt sticky.

"I'm here," she answered, visibly shaken. Nathaniel remembered that she had shot two of the men, and that had probably been her first time. "We have to clean up that wound, though," she said, pointing to the cut on his forearm.

He shook his head. "I'm fine," he said, and got back on his feet.

"Nonsense," she said. "Let's go back to the Arenbergs'."

"I'm… not staying with them at the moment," he said. "I'm at the Hanged Man."

"What's that?"

"A tavern in Lowtown."

"Well then," she said firmly, "that's where we're going."

* * *

Every time he opened his mouth to complain, she shushed him. He showed her how to clean the wound, and she tore up some frills from her dress in order to make bandages. He took a seat, his head spinning for some unknown reason.

"You'll need to find clean ones tomorrow," she said.

"I know," he grunted. "And thank you, but you shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you," she said, looking round the room he had rented.

"The Arenbergs' are going through a difficult time," he explained delicately. "It's happened before. I'll stay here for a couple of days, and when they're better, Lord Arenberg will send for me."

She finished wrapping the bandages around his arm and tied them tightly. Nathaniel grunted.

"Too tight?"

"No, it's fine. It's better that way," he said, and watched her. She was holding his forearm in her pretty hands. She kissed the area that had been cut, and turned the arm gently.

"Is this where the dog bit you?" Her voice was soft.

"Please, don't," he pleaded, a lump forming in his throat.

She passed her fingers over the scars, tracing them with a certain softness that was unfamiliar to him. Her lips kissed the scars tenderly, sending shivers up his spine. He felt his strength and his resistance ebbing off when she looked up at him, still kissing his arm. He drew his arm away from her and looked at her angrily.

She found his mouth instead, and she was not surprised when he parted his lips and kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth. Her own tongue reacted naturally and played with the tip of his. His hands were drawing her towards him, and she found herself sitting on his lap, his fingers all over her, playing with her hair, running down her neck, briefly brushing against her breasts. She gasped and pulled her mouth away, but this time he did not let her go. He licked her lips and moved down towards a soft spot on her neck, softly sucking and kissing, feeling the reactions that his hips were having every time she squirmed, as if it was the first time he had felt them.

He was enjoying it. She knew he was. His abandonment was complete, and his face looked strong and vulnerable at the same time. Nerissa's body was vibrating – every time he caressed her breasts, her whole body shook. He smiled. He could feel her every move. She was rocking softly against his hips, and for a moment Nathaniel thought that he was going to lose his mind if she went on moving like that. He wanted to stop her, but his hands, instead of pushing her away gently, found the way between her legs. She was kissing him at the moment and he caught her by surprise. She moaned and put her own hand over the throbbing bulge in his pants, making him groan and bite her. He kissed her deeply one more time and pushed her back.

They were breathless. Her face looked unusually sensual, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed. Nathaniel panted and stood up, walking away from her, keeping his distance. He opened the door of the room and looked away.

"Are you…?" Nerissa was confused.

"I'm asking you to leave."

"But I thought-"

"Please. Go. Now."

* * *

She had managed to contain her tears until she got to her room. Virgil was waiting for her, and she sat on the floor by his side. He licked her face and put a paw on her hand, cocking his head sideways. She hugged him and sobbed.

* * *

"We're leaving tomorrow," Bryce said after lunch. Nerissa nodded and felt relieved. One more day there and she would lose her mind.

* * *

She wondered why she was standing outside the Hanged Man once more. He had pushed her away twice. But he had been nice to her, and she had gone there to say goodbye. She took a deep breath and entered the tavern.

The music was cheerful, as usual. The air, however, felt stale and smelled of ale. Some people were gathered around a young dwarf, who seemed to be telling stories that made them laugh and shout in awe. Some others were musing, confiding their problems to the bartender, and even ogling the barmaids.

And there was Nathaniel, holding a glass, sitting alone at the back of the main room.

"We're leaving tomorrow," she said. He took a sip of his glass without looking at her.

"I just… I just wanted to say goodbye," she said more loudly. He rubbed his fingers against the rim of the glass, still looking down.

She frowned. He was being childish. She turned around to leave and he caught her by the hand. He muttered something.

"I can't hear you," she said impatiently. His grip tightened.

* * *

He had had to finish by himself what she had started. When he was done, he hated her for that. He felt dirty in more than one sense. He had never thought of himself as 'pure', but he had never thought much of his body and its needs. And she had come along, with her green eyes and her scent of flowers, her soft skin and her open mouth, her eager fingers and her small breasts, and she had not been out of his mind for a minute.

And that was terribly wrong. Her father had asked him to help her defend herself, and instead, he had actively thought of ways to defile her. She was much younger than he was. He did not want her to have any sort of expectations. He was not ready to settle down. In the eyes of his father, he was not even a man.

And what would his father say? Some years ago, after the Couslands had departed, his father had told him what kind of people they were – how they looked down on Amaranthine, and how they always thought themselves better than their peers, switching allegiances and consorting with Orlesians and Antivans. But Nathaniel was confused. Nerissa had actually shown him nothing but kindness. And now Bryce had taken the time to talk to him, and he had entrusted his daughter's safety to him. And he had failed. Surely they could not be that bad.

His father had asked two things of him; that he became a skilled warrior, and that he did not go whoring around, making bastards that would keep him back from his destiny. But Nerissa was not a whore. She was a sweet girl. A girl that was too young for him. But, in the eyes of his father, she was something worse than a whore. She was a Cousland.

For a moment, he thought of talking to Bryce about it. But then what? His father would deem him a traitor, and Bryce would not want a Howe near his daughter. More than one life would be ruined, just because of a stupid infatuation. She was not even beautiful. She was just a stupid Cousland.

The image of her appeared in front of him. "We're leaving tomorrow," she said. He took a sip of whiskey and tried to shut his ears to the sound of her voice, but he only managed to make her talk again. "I just… I just wanted to say goodbye." She had raised her voice, that sultry voice of hers. Damn her. His fingers grew restless, caressing the rim of the glass, imagining she was the glass. Damned girl.

He could not go on like that. Just as she was turning to leave, he grabbed her by the hand. Some words left his mouth and died soon after.

"I can't hear you," she said, sounding a little irritated. His fingers tightened around her wrist, slipping down towards her fingers.

"Do you want to go the whole way?" he growled.

* * *

They climbed the steps that led to the room he was renting – hand in hand, their hearts beating faster than ever before. As soon as the door was closed, he kissed her with unrestrained passion and heat, his fingers working to untie the strings of her dress. She kissed him repeatedly, a smile on her lips. The dress was quickly unfastened, and he moved it out of the way even faster, leaving her young body exposed. He rubbed his hands against her body, groping her buttocks and her breasts, sliding a hand between her legs and his tongue into her mouth, moving both rhythmically at the same time. When he felt she was ready, he took her by the waist, his strong arms lifting her up, and she parted her legs, pushing her hips instinctively against his. He pinned her against the door, holding her with his right arm, while the fingers in his left hand traced her lips.

She caught his thumb between her lips and licked the tip of it. The sight of the tongue turned him on, and he kissed her deeply, sliding his fingers down her side, then across her belly and up her chest, tracing along the inside of a breast, massaging her right nipple with his wet thumb. She gasped and dug her fingernails on his back. His teeth sank in the flesh of her neck – she was soft and warm, and she was fragile: everything he did made her tremble.

Her body felt hot and cold at the same time, and she did not know what was expected of her. She remembered that the last time she had touched him between his legs, and he had had a violent reaction. Would he turn her away again? Had she hurt him? She had so many questions and nobody to answer them, so she did what she felt like doing. Her dexterous fingers slipped into his pants, looking for whatever was moving in there. She only knew one thing: whatever it was, her body wanted to feel it inside.

Nathaniel groaned when she started stroking him. _Why, _he wondered,_ why are we doing this? _This was not right. She was just a girl. The arching of her back and her moaning made him throw her onto the bed. He pulled down his pants and Nerissa saw for the first time what it was that had been pressing against her. She reached out to touch it, but Nathaniel moved her hand away and lay on his right arm by her side. She took his hand and kissed his palm, licking her way towards the fingertips. He kissed her shoulder and ran his left hand over her breasts, cupping the left one and kissing it before sliding his hand downwards, squeezing her thigh. Nerissa squirmed and moved her leg aside. He moved her undergarments out of the way and got between her legs.

_Don't do it,_ a voice was saying. _You can hurt her. She might be with child because of this. Think of your father. Think of her father._ The voices did not leave him alone. He closed his eyes and for a moment, he hesitated. He was not sure whether he would be able to stop at this point.

Nerissa interpreted the look in his face only partially. She thought that he was afraid of hurting her. But she did not care. She caressed his cheek and wrapped her legs around him, raising her hips to meet his. She bent her knees and dug her heels on his lower back, causing him to move into her.

"No!" he shouted, but it was too late: he could feel her flesh around him, pulsating, drawing him in. He tried to pull away, but she pushed him back inside, and he closed his eyes, thinking of nothing but her body. He covered her moaning with kisses, and moved his hips faster and deeper, as she arched her back and bit her own lips. He leaned down to lick her neck and bite it. Their breathing got heavier. Their hips moved against and away, until her body trembled and his body found the release he had been looking for.

Nathaniel moved aside, still panting. Nerissa's chest was moving up and down, still convulsing after everything was over. There was a dreamy smile on her face, and Nathaniel hated himself for it. Now that he had regained his mind, a sudden realization clung onto him like a leech. What if…? No, it was not possible. But still, now that she was closer to being next in line, what if…? He refused to think about it. He stood up and pulled up his pants, turning his back on her.

"That… That was…" Her voice was almost cheerful. "I'd never imagined…"

"That was nothing," he said, closing his eyes.

"What?"

He took a deep breath and turned around to face her.

"I said that it was nothing. It didn't mean anything to me, and it shouldn't mean anything to you either."

Nerissa stared at him. "You don't mean that…" she whispered.

"I do. You're just a little girl. What did you think this was, _love_?" He snorted. "Love. What a ridiculous conception."

"No…" Nerissa shook her head. "No, you don't mean that."

He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her close to his face. "Oh, but I do mean that. Now get dressed and leave. After all, you'd only come to say your goodbyes, hadn't you?"

She started to feel sick. She picked up her dress and put it on quickly. He was looking away, his face turned to the wall. Her heart felt weary, but even if she was on the verge of tears, she managed to turn around and shout, "You're an ass, Nathaniel Howe!" and she slammed the door behind her.

He breathed out slowly, hoping that she had believed him. It was the best for the two of them.

"Goodbye, my love," he whispered, and went down to pick up a bottle of whiskey. He needed something to forget what had just happened.

* * *

_Nerissa talked, and Bryce listened patiently. The only thing he was sure of was that she blamed herself for seducing Nathaniel, and that she had actually carried out the seduction. She told him about the sticky substance she had found between her legs, and Bryce tried to explain to her what that was. He told her about the possible consequences of her actions and she cried. She had not thought about it._

_Bryce waited until Nerissa fell asleep before he left the estate._

* * *

_It was late when Nathaniel tottered back to his room. The moment he went in, he felt that something was off._

_The punch hit him square in the jaw and he stumbled against the bed, falling down. He could barely see in the dark, but he would recognize that voice anywhere._

_"I won't have you killed just because my daughter has assumed the responsibility of her actions. If you're half the man I thought you were, you will stay away from her. Is that clear?"_

_Nathaniel nodded. He heard the door closing and he sank into a dreamless sleep._

* * *

_"My little girl!" Eleanor exclaimed as soon as they got off the ship. Nerissa ran towards her mother and hugged her. "Look at you! You've grown up so much in these few weeks! Oh, I missed you so much!"_

_Nerissa smiled at her mother sweetly, and Bryce embraced the two women, holding them close to him._

**Next Chapter: Anders**


	12. Anders

**Anders**

"You're doing very well, Gwyn," Senior Enchanter Sweeney said warmly. "Just two more."

Gwyn shook his head and said, "Pardon me, Senior Enchanter, but there is only one left: the only effective way to neutralize a _solabenkrag_ is to cast _kylesutale'en_ – the Blizzard spell. Otherwise, the fire of the Grease Flame spell might reignite."

"Astounding, my child," Irving clapped, and the rest of the senior enchanters followed him. "Why, I can scarcely believe that you came to us just three years ago. Look at you. You should be proud of yourself. But only a little, and just for today, eh?" He winked. "Run along, boy. Tomorrow you shall receive your training staff and hopefully, you'll join your partners in a short time."

Gwyn beamed. He bowed, took his scrolls, and left the room. His heart was fluttering – he was closer to having his own staff. He wondered what kind of materials they would use for it. He should ask Owain. He was a nice man. Jowan called him 'Ser Book-on-Legs' mockingly, possibly because he had never known that Gwyn's aunt was a Tranquil enchanter as well. Jowan looked down on Tranquils, and for Neria's sake, Torrian and Gwyn refrained their tongues every time Jowan went on about their creepiness.

He was about to get to the common room when a Templar called him.

"Oi, this came for you," he sniggered and gave him a letter.

Gwyn frowned, took it, and hurried into the room. His friends were inside, waiting for news.

"So, how was it?" Neria asked excitedly.

"What kind of question is that?" Torrian laughed. "He must've been astounding in there!"

"It was quite good, yes," he said, modestly.

"Tell us about it!" Neria clapped.

"You've already been through it, and you were excellent! There's nothing new for you to know," Gwyn said, hugging her.

"Did Irving offer to tutor you as well?" she said, leaning on his shoulder.

"No, and anyway, I'd choose Wynne."

"How booooring," Torrian yawned, stretching out. "That woman's such a-"

"I happen to like her, you know," Gwyn said defensively.

"There's no accounting for tastes," Jowan whispered in Torrian's ear. Torrian shook his head amusedly. "What's that on your hand?" he asked, pointing to the missive.

"One of the Templars gave it to me-"

"Ooh, so he _gave it_ to you?"

"Oh, shut it, Torrian," Gwyn scowled. He took a look at the letter, and smiled. "It's from my sister!"

"Yay, Nerissa's writing again!" Neria cheered.

"I must admit I was getting worried as well. Two months and no news from Dear Sister!" Torrian gasped dramatically and mocked Gwyn, "_O cruel Sister, thou hast abandon'd thy brother!_"

"Do shut up," Gwyn chuckled. "Hmm," he frowned. "It's been opened."

"Damned Templars," Jowan murmured.

"Well," Torrian said, sitting cross-legged on his bed. "What are you waiting for? Read it!" He patted the spot to his side and Neria sat next to him. Gwyn started reading. _"Dear Gwyn, I am terribly sorry for not writing before. I was away with Father, in the city of Kirkwall."_

Neria gasped. Torrian said, "I'm so jealous! Did you know that my family-?"

"Shush!" Gwyn said, and continued reading. _"I had never seen so many people living in a place. We stayed in Hightown, at Lord Friedrich's estate – do you remember him? He was that young man that spent a summer with us, almost ten years ago now. Anyway, he and his wife were very nice to us, and so were all the other families that we met."_

"Aww, sounds like fun," Neria smiled.

_"Virgil took me for a walk – yes, I can't keep pretending that it is me who takes him for a walk when I am constantly being dragged after him – all over the city, so I took the chance to buy things for little Oren and for you. I hope you like the present-"_

"What present?" Jowan asked.

"The Templar gave me nothing else," Gwyn shrugged.

"Damned Templars," Jowan murmured again.

_"I bought it in the bazaar of Lowtown, where the vendors would sell their souls if you showed them enough gold. Do not tell the demons that it is like that, or else Kirkwall will be overrun by abominations, hah. I also had the chance to see Nathaniel Howe again."_ Gwyn put down the letter and frowned.

"Who's Nathaniel Howe?" Neria asked.

"He's the stupid eldest son of a friend of my father's," Gwyn muttered. "I've never liked the Howe family. They're all… disagreeable." He shuddered.

"Don't keep us in suspense, then," Torrian said.

_"He has changed greatly. I can see now that he is exactly what you used to call him: a Howe through and through. I was so wrong about him. At first, I thought that he was nice. He complimented me on my musical skills, he helped me to choose the gifts I would take home-"_

"I bet you're glad you didn't get that gift, then," Jowan pointed out.

_"-and he even taught me how to defend myself –at Father's request, but still, he helped me. A few days after our first meeting, he kissed _HE DID WHAT," Gwyn howled.

Torrian laughed. "I didn't know you could make that face!"

"Aw, that's so romantic!" Neria sighed.

"I can't keep reading this," Gwyn muttered. Neria stood up and took the letter from his hands. "Sit down, love; I'll read it for you." Gwyn sat next to Torrian, scowling.

"Ahem," Neria cleared her throat and went on. _"It was the sweetest thing I had ever experienced, Gwynny. But I thought I had done something wrong, because he sent me away, on my own."_

"Bastard," Gwyn grunted.

_"I was supposed to meet him the next day, but he did not come. I thought he was angry with me. When I was going back to the estate, I saw him being attacked by a group of thugs. Gwyn, I had never been so excited in my life."_ Neria frowned. "Maybe I misread… No, she _did _say that."

"Go on!" Torrian cried.

_"It was like the sound of thunder in my body. He had killed_ –oh, how horrible!- _He had killed many of them, but some remained. I used my bow and I hit two of them. Only much later did I think of what a horrible thing I had done, but I was trying to defend him."_

Gwyn sighed heavily.

_"He was hurt, and I helped him. And we kissed_ –awww!- _And we kissed again."_

"That's my girl," Torrian snickered. Gwyn hit him with a pillow and groaned, "Andraste's grace, where was my father?"

_"But again, he sent me away. That was when Dad told me that we would be going back home. The next day I went to say goodbye to him; instead, we-"_ Neria stopped reading out and blushed to the tip of her ears. Jowan got quickly on his feet and looked over her shoulder.

"Move aside, O Neria! I'll continue: _instead, we went to-_" His eyes opened wide and he went on reading silently. Neria sat down, muttering, _"_Makermakermaker…"

"What?" Gwyn asked nervously, as Torrian stood next to Jowan, took a look at the letter and guffawed. The two boys were reading the letter avidly. Gwyn stood up and took the letter from them. His eyes matched those of his partners, and he went red in the face. "I can't…" He was out of breath. "I can't believe she did _that_!"

"Why not?" Torrian said, trying to snatch the letter away from Gwyn's hands. "She had some urges and she acted upon them."

"She's my parents' daughter," Gwyn hissed. "What if she has a baby because of this? What was she thinking?!"

"She says she was examined and that everything's fine, and she didn't say anything explicitly – no details, see?" Torrian pointed out. "Did you even _read_ what she wrote?"

"I'm going to kill him," Gwyn muttered.

"Darling Gwyn," Torrian whispered in his ear, "you can't even kill a fly without weeping for a week." He smiled, "You know, I don't think you'll have the chance – your sister sounds so mad at him that she'll probably kill him first. Ah, but one day we'll be able to go into the Fade and kill his spirit! Or haunt him in his sleep. What do you say, hmm?"

Gwyn opened his mouth to reply, but the apprentice they had (affectionately) named Flora ran into the common room and, almost out of breath, managed to say, "Anders!"

"Oh no," Neria said sadly, leaving aside the gryphon doll she had been hugging for a while.

"They've caught him again," Torrian sighed.

* * *

The Templars paraded him in front of the apprentices. His hands were shackled behind his back, but his head was straight up, looking ahead in defiance. In the last year he had tried to escape four times and this, his latest attempt, had taken place during a swimming lesson not a week before. Gwyn, Torrian, Neria, and Jowan watched him pass by, and Anders winked at them briefly, before the Templar walking behind him gave him a push.

"Now, now, young man; surely there's no need to be rude?" Irving said, standing between Anders and the Templar.

The Templar stood there silently, his helmet still on. There was something especially unsettling about the Bloody Bunch, as the apprentices had named them: they never removed their helmets. At first, they had just stood there, like new statues that the Chantry had acquired for decoration. Everybody knew that the Templars were always there to watch so that mages would not misuse magic. It was certainly intimidating to have them standing there, their eyes fixed on a blank point, their ears searching for a suspicious tone, a miscast word…

But then the Bloody Bunch had come. As part of a group exchange with the Circle of Starkhaven, a party of Templars had been transferred to Kinloch Hold, and in a very short time, things had changed. Knight-Commander Greagoir had been away for little more than a month and upon his return, he had found that the new group had managed to intimidate the apprentices. Not that he disapproved of the idea – he had always thought that one could not be too cautious when it came to blood magic; but until that moment he thought that it was senior apprentices one had to be wary of, not children.

And so one day, one of the younger children was completing a parchment when he felt that someone was watching him. Closely. The child lifted his eyes and found the Templar's head turned in his direction. Silently. The child's eyes returned to the writing. But the feeling was still there. A while later, the child looked at the Templar, who continued watching him. The child got nervous. _Why._ Why was the Templar staring at him? He had just been brought to the Circle. Seven years old, and already separated from his family. He was doing what he had been told. Yet the Templar continued watching. Quietly. He was not doing anything wrong, was he? He had been told to behave, and if he behaved everything would be fine. The child tried to continue writing, but the Templar's eyes were on him. He could feel them. His hands became sweaty. He did not dare look up again. He started breathing faster. He felt the Templar moving. Coming closer.

When Irving questioned her later, the mage instructor in charge of that group said that the child had only reacted naturally. Magic was still raw, and he still had not learnt how to use it properly. He had only tried to defend himself against something he had perceived as dangerous, and he had barely started casting a spell when a second Templar, coming from behind, had used an unnecessarily aggressive talent against the boy. It would have sufficed to simply cleanse the area. The boy had been knocked out instantly, blood coming out of his nose and ears. The Templars had taken him away. He had died in the infirmary that night.

It had only taken one boy to spread the fear. After that, every time one of the Templars from the Bloody Bunch was present in a class, the room felt different. The instructors tried to assure the students that what had happened would not happen again. But the pressure was there, in the thickness of the air. Something had changed forever.

Gwyn, Jowan, and Neria were never in trouble with the Bunch, but Torrian and Anders were followed closely due to their well-known antics. Time had not changed them. They continued making the same jokes, running along the halls, and laughing at the painful sense of humour that life had, having brought them together against their will to a place where they had found joy.

But Torrian was the first to fall. He had stood up for another apprentice, and the Templars had decided to lock him in a cell for a whole day, with no food or water. Greagoir had agreed because he had not considered the punishment to be very severe. Wynne had tried to talk to the apprentice, asking him to abstain from agitating the Templars, but Torrian had dismissed her words.

Anders supported his friend wholeheartedly, and with his usual good humour, he started drawing the attention of the Templars even more towards himself. The first time was when he had stood in front of a Templar, holding what he called a "masked staring contest" – he had pulled a hat over his face and stared at the Templar in the same way apprentices were observed. The second time, instead of the task he had been assigned, he had read out an essay which had turned out to be a humorous writing he later entitled _The Pathetic Life of Ser Shortdick, Templar._ The third time, however, was his first attempt to escape.

Having stood in the sun for a whole summer's day, he had had the chance to observe the movement of life outside the Hold – how many Templars actually went in and out, how many patrolled the area, and what kind of visitors the Hold received. He had no money to bribe the people who left, so he would have to rely on something else. Toughness was not his greatest attribute, and when he decided to make a dash for the boats in the docks, he jumped off the rocks where he had been standing, and fell on one of his arms. He broke his elbow. After that, he discovered how useful it was to focus on his studies, and when he became quite proficient at healing, he decided to try again – this time he broke a leg, and the pain was so intense that he could hardly heal himself, his mind in a state of shock.

For the third attempt, he had let his hair down, and by mimicking their way of speaking, he tried to pass as a Tranquil enchanter. He had made it to the Inn across the lake, when one of the enchanters revealed to the Templar in charge of receiving the group that Anders was, in fact, not part of the party. That attempt, which had been almost successful, had encouraged him to try to escape one more time, during a swimming lesson.

Greagoir and Irving had reached an agreement and decided that it would be good for all the apprentices to relieve some tension by doing exercise and breathing fresh air. Taking advantage of the fact that Templars wore heavy plate all the time, Anders had ran towards the docks, jumped off, and swum to the shore, egged on by the cheering of the other apprentices.

For Gwyn and Neria, it was a mystery why he wanted to escape so badly. They thought that it was because Anders knew that he had the slimmest of chances, and as long as he had that, he would keep trying. So, when they saw him come back in shackles, their hearts felt sorry for their friend, and for a moment they both wished he would stop trying.

* * *

"One, two, three, up!" the instructor was saying, and Gwyn was listening to him, but his arms did not respond. The instructor sighed. "I'm afraid you'll have to do more exercise, Gwyn, or else you'll never succeed in handling your staff properly."

"It's only the first day," Gwyn said weakly.

"It's true. But you don't look as enthusiastic about this as I expected, so that will make the following days more difficult."

"I was just wondering why we need staves. It isn't because of their augmentation powers. We could have other things for that, more practical, or less heavy."

"We use staves so that we can do this," the instructor lunged, delivering a low blow to Gwyn's knee, causing him to lose balance, and then hit him on the side of the neck with the higher end. Gwyn fell forward. "Now you see why it's important to handle staves properly. We'll continue tomorrow."

A few days later, Neria offered to rub his shoulders and his arms when he got back to the common room. "I don't know how you do it," Gwyn said, looking at her in awe. "You're so little and yet-"

"Size has little to do with these things. It's all about strength. And I think that women get lighter staves for practice." She stood in front of him, gazing at him intently. He raised an eyebrow.

"What," he said.

"Do you like women?" she blurted out.

Now Gwyn raised both eyebrows. "Do I-? I don't know. Yes, why wouldn't I?"

"Are we friends?"

"You don't need me to answer that, silly."

"Do you like me?" she said, blushing slightly.

"Of course I like you. Is there a reason behind this line of questioning?"

"Do you like me as a woman?"

Gwyn fell silent. _Ah,_ he thought. She looked at him expectantly. "What is it that you want, Neria?"

"Kiss me," she said, leaning towards him.

"Whoa," Gwyn said, standing up and taking a few steps back. "Where is this coming from?"

"She's been reading your sister's letter behind your back," Jowan said behind her.

"Jowan!" Neria cried and went red in the face.

"What does this have to do with-?"

"She wants to experience what Nerissa described in her letter," Torrian said behind him.

"Where did_ you_ come from?" Gwyn said, holding his back against the wall.

"We've been here all this time," Jowan said.

"You have been reading my sister's letter _again_?" Gywn asked Neria.

"I'm sorry, it's just… I wanted that, you know? I wanted a romantic story like the ballads you sing for us. And Nerissa had the romance. I wanted it as well."

"Oh, Neria…" Gwyn sighed. "I'm sorry. But you can't force romance. It happens or it does not. What my sister did… You know I don't approve of it."

"You don't want to love?" Neria asked, teary-eyed.

"Love is not about kissing or doing… other things," Gwyn said, blushing. "Love is about caring for someone, and wishing to protect that person more than any other thing in the world. There can be love in friendship, yes, but..."

Torrian stared at him. "Andraste's ass," he laughed and walked over to Neria. He cupped her face and kissed her. Gwyn and Jowan gaped at their friends when the kiss became more intense.

"I think we should leave them alone," Jowan whispered to Gwyn.

Gwyn looked at his friends, irritated. "Idiot," he muttered.

* * *

Anders had been taken away. Irving and Greagoir had arranged that he would stay in the Tranquil quarter, where he would be allowed to continue with his botany lessons. Hopefully, living with the Tranquil enchanters would help to calm down his increasingly rebellious temper. Anders did not agree.

"This is madness," he said to Gwyn and Torrian when they went to visit him. "I can't believe that someone actually _chooses_ this fate. They're like… walking corpses."

"I'm sure it's not so bad," Torrian said, looking at his sister. She was standing nearby, putting a mixture of seeds in the mortar and grinding them.

"Oh…" Anders said. "I'm sorry. She's rather nice."

"Anders, you've got to stop trying to escape. Things are not that terrible here," Gwyn said.

"They killed a boy! They punish us for everything, even the smallest things!" Anders shouted.

"Then perhaps you should stop doing those things!" Gwyn replied. He felt irritated by Anders's arguments. "Grow up! It's not worth it!"

"How can you say that? Oh, I see… You were not the one who was ripped away from his family. Your mother wasn't struck down when she refused to hand you in!"

"Anders!" Torrian exclaimed.

"You did not see her crying for your life, because_ your_ family surrendered you willingly!" Anders screamed.

"You're an idiot! What do you know about my family?" Gwyn's fists were clenched, an unfamiliar sense of rage rushing through his veins.

"That's enough, you two! Enough!" Torrian said, getting between his two friends. He put a hand over Gwyn's shoulder but he shrugged it off and walked away.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Anders said, a month later.

Gwyn looked away from his book and saw his friend standing next to his chair. Anders's face looked tired but calm.

"Are you pouting?" Gwyn said, raising an eyebrow.

"A little," Anders said. "Is it working?"

"Hmm," Gwyn grunted, going back to his book.

"I've missed you. I really didn't mean what I said that day."

Gwyn shut his book. "I don't want to discuss this, Anders. Let's… Let's forget about this, yes? But please, _please,_ be careful. I don't understand why you take the Templars so seriously. If only you could-"

"Gwyn, please," Anders interrupted him. He sighed. "As you said, let's forget about this." Gwyn nodded reluctantly. Anders smiled briefly. "So, what have I been missing?"

"Torrian and Neria's kissing moments," Gwyn said apathetically.

"What? Torrian didn't say anything about that!" Anders's eyes were as big as sovereigns.

"Well, you won't have to wait long. They do it every night," Gwyn smirked.

"Maker… Is it… nice?"

"You're asking me?"

"Well, I've never done it."

"Neither have I. I'm not really interested either. And I thought that Neria wasn't interested, but ever since I got that letter from Nerissa…"

"Oh, she's writing again?"

"Yes, and she sent a letter that affected Neria quite badly. I still don't see why, because it wasn't so-hey! What are you doing?" Anders was rummaging through Gwyn's box of letters.

"I just want to read it."

"Oh no, please," Gwyn groaned and then sighed. "If you must… But please don't show it to Neria again. Hopefully she'll forget about it one day." But Anders was already reading the letter. Gwyn saw him moving his lips, reading silently, almost devouring the letter. He rolled his eyes and went back to his reading. After a while, he felt the rustling of robes next to him. Anders was standing there.

"Yes?" Gwyn looked up. Anders lowered his head and kissed him on the lips, a quick and soft peck. Gwyn stood up quickly, dropping the book.

"What… What are you doing?" he said, wiping his mouth with a sleeve.

"I wanted to try how it felt. It's not bad. Unless, of course, the other person cleans their mouth. I suppose it has to be a mutual thing, then." Anders said, leaving Nerissa's letter on the table before leaving the room.

Gwyn looked at the letter, still in shock. He took the letter and threw it in the fire.

* * *

The rest of the year was quite uneventful. Seasons and lessons came and went, and the apprentices managed to finish their theoretical lessons in peace. Gwyn's handling of the staff got better in time, and by the time he was sixteen, he was able to join his friends and the other apprentices of his age. At first he was paired with Anders, but Anders had become very proficient at staff fighting, so the instructor asked Torrian to practice with Gwyn.

"You won't see it coming," Torrian laughed.

He was not completely right. Gwyn could see it coming, but Torrian's strength was such that his blows usually sent Gwyn flying against walls and columns.

"When did you become so strong?" Gwyn said, rubbing the back of his head.

"Well, while you're reading books and manuals, I'm lifting up things to make my arms and my back stronger." Gwyn took a look at Torrian's back. It had become broader indeed. One could even see the lines of muscles against the silky fabric of the robes. "Come on, mate. You can do this," he said to Gwyn as he helped him stand up.

Gwyn clenched his teeth, his hands on the staff, his body turned to face Torrian. Torrian raised the lower end of the staff, moving it in a circle, and parried a blow to the head with the higher end. Gwyn raised both ends of the staff to stop the blow, but miscalculated the height and the last thing he heard was, "Maker, I think I killed him."

When he came to, he was back in the dormitory. He rolled on his side and felt a stabbing pain in his head.

"Owww," he groaned.

"You awake?" Torrian asked, softly.

"I almost wish I wasn't," Gwyn replied. "What happened? Wait… You hit me! How could you hit me like that?"

"I thought you'd jump away, as you usually do," Torrian said, sitting on Gwyn's bed. He pointed to the bandages. "Do you think you can use a healing spell for that, or shall I call Anders?"

"It's just a headache," Gwyn said, sitting up. "Hopefully, it will go away."

"Sorry about that," Torrian said in a low voice. He was tracing the pattern on Gwyn's quilt with a finger. His eyes were looking down, embarrassedly.

"That's okay. It'll teach me to refresh my duck and dodge skills, right?" Gwyn stretched his arms, yawning. Torrian looked at him, his blue eyes darker than usual. Gwyn smiled obliviously.

Torrian put his hands around Gwyn's head and drew it towards his, kissing him warmly. Gwyn's eyes were wide open; his mind was trying to understand what was going on. He shook his head and jumped away from the bed. He walked to the other side, shaking his head, holding his hand over his mouth. _But I burned the letter, _he told himself. Gwyn looked back at his friend and said in a hush voice, "Never do that again, do you hear me?" Torrian watched him silently before he stood up and left him alone.

* * *

Months went by, and Anders ran away again. This time, his friends thought that he had finally managed to escape forever. But a few months later, after Gwyn's seventeenth birthday, he was brought in – dirty, bruised, and still proud. The apprentices cheered when they saw him, all except for Gwyn, whose eyes reflected pity, but not compassion.

"This time I'll have to make an example of him, Irving," Knight-Commander Greagoir said. "We can't have the other apprentices supporting this kind of behaviour. Three more tried to escape in the last year."

"I see, Greagoir" Irving sighed. "But the lad is just misguided. He's not bad."

"Do I need to remind you what dangers this runaway mages can bring into the Circle?" Greagoir barked. "You know as well as I do that these apprentices need to be aware of the foul uses of magic, and all we're getting here is devotion for characters that seem to care very little for learning and a lot for subverting!"

Irving raised his hands. "It is not entirely like that. They understand it. But apprentices can't live their whole lives locked in a place. If we isolate them, we're teaching them that there are good reasons for people to fear us, when they should be given the chance to actually help those people."

"You can do what you will with the rest, but this one must serve as an example, Irving." Greagoir's voice boomed in the silence of the study room.

Irving fixed his eyes on him and then bowed his head. "Then do what you must, Knight-Commander."

* * *

The whip went down ten times. At first, Anders had managed to keep the smile on his face, but after a while, the tears started flowing. He clenched his jaw and shut his eyes tight every time the whip came down on his back. Five more times and the Templar changed the whip for a knout. When the metal hit his flesh, he started screaming. Some of the apprentices were crying; a few girls even passed out. Gwyn and Torrian looked at Anders, unable to tear their eyes away from him. Neria was weeping against Jowan's chest, and he was glaring at the Templars standing near his tortured friend. The Templar stopped the flogging only when Anders had lost consciousness.

* * *

He had refused to be healed by Wynne or by anyone. Neria and Torrian asked the nurses in the infirmary for bandages. Together, they managed to clean up the wounds. Gwyn had to make a supreme effort to heal him, and even though the healing was effective, the scars would not disappear. Anders was sobbing softly against his little embroidered pillow when Gwyn decided to say something.

"Was it worth it?" he asked coolly.

"Gwyn," Neria protested.

Anders looked at him dispassionately. "Every minute of it."

* * *

Jowan, Gwyn, and Neria had finished dinner in the hall. Neria was talking to other girls about what had happened with Anders, and they all agreed that the punishment had been excessive. Gwyn rolled his eyes and left the table alone. He got back to the dormitory. The place looked empty, except for two silhouettes, outlined against the fire blaring at the back of the room. Torrian and Anders. Anders was saying something in a hushed voice, but Torrian… Torrian was kissing down Anders's back, soothing him. Gwyn froze. For a moment, he could not move a single muscle in his body, a disagreeable sensation clinging onto him. Jowan spoke behind him, causing Torrian to look up and see him standing at the door. Gwyn shook his head and walked away, to the gardens.

He spent some time staring at his aunt Elissa. Elissa asked him what he needed.

"What does it feel like? Not to feel?" he asked.

"There is no fear, only certainty," she replied. "Nothing lurks in the shadows, and nobody hurts us with words or actions."

"Is it worth it?"

"From the way you look, it might be," she replied calmly.

* * *

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Torrian asked Gwyn one morning.

"I haven't," he replied quickly.

"Bullshit. You know you have. Is it because of what I did with Anders?"

Gwyn looked at him. "I didn't know you had done anything with Anders, but if that's what you like, then good for you." He took a book and walked away. Torrian caught up with him very quickly.

"Are you jealous?"

Gwyn stopped walking. He did not dare look at Torrian. "No," he said in the end. "And I can't believe you've even considered that possibility."

"I've considered all the possibilities by now, Gwyn," Torrian said softly. "I just seek to understand what I've done to drive you away."

"Don't waste your time," Gwyn barked, and ran towards the gardens.

* * *

He finished reading his book and looked away. His green eyes were sad and tired. He had been having unsettling dreams, and they all involved Elissa and Torrian. Elissa was right. Feelings were annoying. Irritation, anger, doubt. His heart was filled with those. He hated himself for that.

He was walking down the path back to the halls when he felt a pair of hands holding him by the robes, slamming him against a wall. Torrian. Standing close to him. Holding him against his will. His blue eyes were glaring, and Gwyn's heartbeat quickened. Torrian held Gwyn's face in his hands and kissed him, again and again, the pressure of his lips going from aggressive to tender with every kiss. Gwyn tried to fight back, but his heart told him to let go, and he closed his eyes and got lost in the kiss. Torrian's hands were now around him, keeping him close and safe, and for a moment, the rest of the world disappeared. No Anders. No Templars. Just the two of them.

"It's always been you, Gwyn," Torrian whispered against his lips. "Always you."

And Gwyn smiled.

...

**Next Chapter: Mother**


	13. Mother

**Mother**

_The drizzle had passed. He had lit a small fire so that they would dry out sooner. He thought that it was strange that she was not afraid of getting rid of her clothes in front of a stranger, especially in front of a man. True; he was old enough to be her father, but that had not stopped young women from seeking his company before. This time, however, it was different. Her circumstances were special, and he was definitely not in the mood for physical relief – his mind was trying to focus on the events that would take place in Ostagar in the near future._

"Duncan,"_ she called him back to the present. She was now wearing a dirty cloak, the only thing that she had managed to get from the kitchen pantry. It had probably belonged to one of the servants that would not need it anymore. _

_"Yes, Lady Cousland?" he said, without thinking. He noticed her reaction. _"Nerissa."

_"How long till Ostagar? I am not sure where it is."_

_"If we travel all the way on foot, it will take us about a week, provided we stop for meals and rest only. Unfortunately, because of the, uh…" He hesitated. _

_She raised an eyebrow. "Unusual circumstances?" _

_"Yes. Because of this, I'm afraid we can't risk crossing the Bannorn. We'll have to get to Lake Calenhad, and if we're lucky, there may be some horses available at the inn." _

_"Had my father offered you help?" _

_"Yes. I admit I only made the last stretch of the trip to Castle Cousland because I trusted that the Teyrn would aid the cause – at least a recruit and horses. I am truly sorry," he said gently. She did not reply. He watched her. She seemed to be considering something. "About our going to Lake Calenhad… I know your brother is in the Circle, but-"_

_"If you think I'm going to suggest going to Kinloch Hold, you are mistaken," she said bitterly. "The only consolation I have now is knowing that at least one of my brothers is safe from all this… madness." _

_Duncan nodded. "I'm glad I don't have to point that out." The light of the fire made her face look softer. "I met your brother a week ago," he said. She arched her eyebrows. "He's a fine young man. I went to the Circle looking for recruits and again, unusual circumstances led me to leave with someone else."_

_She looked into the fire. Her eyes barely blinked. After a while she asked softly, "What kind of mage is he?"_

_"I believe he's a healer," Duncan told her. "It would have been good to have him, but the other we took will do." _

_"I see," Nerissa murmured. "I should try to get some rest, shouldn't I?" _

_"That would be wise," he said, and offered her his cloak. She refused to take it. _

_"You don't want to get cold," she told him seriously, and lay on the ground, her head resting on the lower part of her leather armor, the only part that was relatively dry. She closed her eyes but she found it hard to get to sleep. They had been walking for almost a day, and she needed to be exhausted. If she was tired, she would not think. She would not remember. _

_In the final moments before dozing off, the image of Eleanor came to her. If her mother could see her now… _

* * *

7 Nubulis 8:90.- Mother gave me this diary so that I write down the important events in my life, instead of the new bow I had requested. She says that now that I am twelve years old, I should start acting like a lady. Mother is boring.

20 Parvulis 8:90.- Father has finally given me the new bow. He promised to teach me his special technique. This is happiness.

11 Cassus 8:94.- I had forgotten about this journal. I do not think I am suited for this kind of chronicling activity.

9 Pluitanis 8:97.- Mother is worried that I will never marry. She is always taking me with her to social gatherings, when I would rather stay here and be with Father. He has not been well recently.

8 Matrinalis 8:98.- The town feels almost empty. More and more often the men and their sons are going to war. We hope this will be over soon.

15 Matrinalis 8:99.- Mother has asked me to accompany her to the Brylands'. Well, she has forced me. She says that I am twenty-one years of age, and my chances are becoming thinner. I think she intends for me to go noble-hunting. I shall take my bow with me, then.

1 Parvulis 8:99.- His name is Bryce, and he has the kindest eyes I have ever seen. And a gentle voice. And swift fingers.

2 Parvulis 8:99.- Bryce is a Cousland. Mother was surprised to see me talk to him so comfortably. But he is so nice. His smile makes me feel warm inside. I should stop writing, lest someone finds these pages.

14 Parvulis 8:99.- We went riding together. There were other people with us at first, but my horse mysteriously decided to gallop in a different direction from that of the group. We found a quiet spot near a stream. I kissed Bryce under an apple tree. He stood there, just looking at me. He helped me get back on the horse and we rode back to the Brylands'. He will probably avoid me now.

16 Parvulis 8:99.- Bryce has been gone ever since I kissed him. He left without saying goodbye. I want to see him. I feel sad without him.

19 Parvulis 8:99.- I have been crying for five days now. Mother asked me what I had done to scare Bryce. I did not tell her. How can I? I should write him a letter and apologize for my shameless action. Stupid, stupid Eleanor!

20 Parvulis 8:99.- Bryce has returned! I am on my way to meet him, as requested in his note.

21 Parvulis 8:99.- I am so excited that I cannot sleep! He had gone back to Highever to fetch his mother's ring. I met him in the library and as soon as I saw him he gave me the sweetest, happiest smile I had ever seen. He took me by the hands and called me his. _My Eleanor_, he said. He went down on one knee and asked me to marry him. I cried, but managed to say yes. He said he would ask Father, but I would marry him even if they said no.

25 Frumentum 8:99.- The wedding celebrations are over. Bryce and I are beyond happy. His father is a nice man, and he calls me 'my daughter'. I miss Father. I hope we can see them soon again.

12 Cassus 8:99.- Father has died. May the Maker keep his soul. Mother has come to live with us. Our hearts are broken.

5 Eluviesta 9:00.- At last, after months of fighting, we have a Fereldan King.

10 Cassus 9:01.- Mother has died. I did not think I would miss her this much.

Summerday 9:02.- I think I might be sick. I do not want to alarm Bryce, but I have been feeling drained lately. The physician will examine me today. Bryce is gone to Kinloch Hold. I know he misses his sister. I wish I could meet her.

All Souls Day 9:02.- The child is growing. It is huge! Bryce says it will be a boy, because Nanny told him that if it is a boy, a woman becomes prettier. He says that I am more beautiful than ever.

23 Frumentum 9:02.- He was born a week ago. We named him Fergus. He came out fighting. The pain was beyond measure. But he is so beautiful.

2 Umbralis 9:02.- I am still very weak. The bleeding stopped only yesterday. A wet nurse is feeding him. It makes me sad.

10 Molioris 9:03.- Fergus is growing more and more every day. Cenric is so happy to have a grandson that he has forgotten about his pains. Bryce and Loghain Mac Tir have talked about a possible union of the houses.

2 Parvulis 9:03.- Fergus has taken his first steps without his frame. Every day he gets stronger. Bryce has talked of having another child. Nothing would make me happier.

9 Nubulis 9:04.- I am with child. I feel sick again. The physician has told me to have bed rest. I hate being in bed.

4 Eluviesta 9:04.- May the Maker keep your soul, dear child.

25 Cassus 9:04.- The physician has examined me. He says this child might not survive either. I will spend the day at the chapel.

3 Pluitanis 9:05.- I saw the child's body before Nanny could put it away. Bryce tells me that I will be fine. I am unsure whether I can bear this pain again. I think I will devote myself to Fergus.

17 Eluviesta 9:07.- Our dear Cenric has left us. We take comfort in the peace he will finally find, after all the pain he had to endure. Loghain has withdrawn his daughter from the marriage arrangement, in favour of the King's son. Bryce and I are relieved.

5 Umbralis 9:07.- I am with child again. I feel hopeless. I wish I felt something different instead.

29 Verimensis 9:08.- I was right. The child did not survive. I am beginning to think that I have been cursed. Bryce tells me that he loves me, and that my wellbeing and Fergus's is all that matters.

7 Ferventis 9:08.- It warms my heart to see little Fergus hopping around in his hobby-horse. I joined him in his games for the first time in a long time. I think he is ready for his first toy sword.

6 Verimensis 9:09.- I am teaching Fergus to use the bow. Even though he is a child, and I should expect things to change eventually, I think his fingers do not have the necessary finesse for this weapon.

All Souls Day 9:09.- Fergus asked for a brother today during breakfast. Bryce explained to him that sometimes it is not possible to receive what we want. I love my two men.

Satinalia 9:09.- I spent the day thinking about Fergus's wish. I think I might be with child. For his sake, I will try to have good thoughts this time. I do not want to tell Bryce yet.

20 Verimensis 9:10.- I felt the child move today, while Fergus and I were playing sword and buckler. Nanny says that it is a good sign. I am starting to have hope.

4 Nubulis 9:10.- I feel my body is enormous. This time the child might be bigger than Fergus. The doctor has told me that I must rest in bed, especially now. But how can I refuse Fergus when he asks me to play with him?

9 Ferventis 9:10.- Gwyn and Nerissa were born ten days ago. They are both healthy, and Bryce is so happy that he has organized a month of festivities in Highever. I have been praying every day, thanking the Maker for having heard me.

8 Frumentum 9:10.- I wish Nerissa slept as much as Gwyn.

19 Verimensis 9:11.- Gwyn caught a bad cold, but Nerissa is fine.

15 Eluviesta 9:11.- Bryce's sister is a Tranquil enchanter now. Bryce is grieving her as if she was dead. I still remember when my cousin was made Tranquil.

19 Eluviesta 9:11.- Nerissa has managed to make Bryce smile. She calls him _Pupup _every time he walks in the room. She ignores the rest of us. Except for Gwyn.

First Day 9:14.- Nerissa and Gwyn were fighting over a puppet today. Fergus took it from them and Nerissa gave him a black eye. I guess we know now who is the strongest.

5 Pluitanis 9:15.- Gwyn has started reading! Brother Aldous says that he will be a very smart lad, and I think he will. Fergus will be our warrior, and Gwyn will be our scholar. Nerissa… She will give me trouble. I know it.

9 Moriolis 9:18.- Fergus took the twins to Highever. They escaped. I told him to tie up his hands to theirs next time. If they still manage to escape, they will not be allowed to go into town again. I am almost sure that the escape was at Nerissa's behest.

11 Solis 9:19.- Bryce has brought some ponies for the twins. Nerissa is very comfortable with hers, but Gwyn cried when Bryce helped him up his. Nerissa showed him that he had nothing to fear. After some hours, I think Gwyn feels better.

16 Solis 9:19.- Arl Howe came to the castle today with Gwyn and Nerissa trailing behind him. Somehow they managed to escape after breakfast and he found them in the borders of Amaranthine. He said Gwyn cried all the way back and Nerissa had tried to escape from him as well. I asked Bryce to take the ponies away.

20 Ferventis 9:20.- Aunt Margaret is waiting for us in South Reach. I would like to take Nerissa with me. I think it is time for her to start becoming acquainted with other girls, but she has rejected the idea. I will ask Bryce to persuade her. I do not want to force her to come with me, but her constant rejection is almost ridiculous.

19 Solis 9:20.- We returned from South Reach with Oriana, Nerissa's new lady-in-waiting. She is a lovely young woman. She might be a good influence on Nerissa. She and Gwyn went climbing trees and they fell. They could have hurt themselves badly.

14 Parvulis 9:20.- Fortunately, Nerissa's temper seems to have abated. Gwyn, on the other hand, has become more active. Twins.

12 Pluitanis 9:21.- Bryce and I disagree. I say that Fergus will ask for Oriana's hand after the twins' birthday. Bryce says he will do it before then.

28 Nubulis 9:21.- Bryce was right.

7 Solis 9:21.- Bryce and Gwyn are in Redcliffe. Now that Nerissa and I have time to spend together without the boys, I started instructing her on the proper use of the bow. She is much better at this than Fergus, but she dislikes practicing for a long time. I told her that discipline is good if she wants to succeed. She answered that discipline is not necessary if she had talent, as I had just said she had. Maker.

2 Eluviesta 9:22.- Oriana is with child. We are overjoyed!

18 Solis 9:22.- Nerissa has reached womanhood. Bryce has given her a silverite dagger as a present. I told him that a new dress would be better. He said that Nerissa would strangle him with the fabric if he gave her that instead. I think he may be right.

6 Frumentum 9:22.- Our first grandchild was born today, and his name is Oren. He is the loveliest baby I have ever seen, with the exception of my own boys. He looks just like Fergus. Oriana is doing wonderfully.

21 Umbralis 9:22.- Today I saw Gwyn depart for Kinloch Hold. I will never recover from this, I know. I barely had time to say goodbye to him before Bryce took him away. But he is right. We must think of the others. I will pray for him every day. I still cannot believe I will never see him again. I start to understand Cenric's need to fill the study room with books on magic. It is the only way to understand what our children go through.

16 Cassus 9:22.- Nerissa is sick. She has not eaten for days. It is her way of grieving over the loss of her brother. But if by tomorrow she still refuses to eat, Maker help me, I will make her. I will not lose another child.

8 Nubulis 9:23.- I am trying to make Nerissa interested in our social activities, but she refuses to accompany me. I cannot understand why she is so stubborn.

13 Ferventis 9:23.- Fergus and Nerissa are finally spending time together. I think Fergus is relieved to spend time with someone who can have a conversation with him. He loves Oren, but he is not likely to bond with him until little Oren is older.

15 Verimensis 9:24.- Nerissa plays the lute beautifully. I told her to continue with archery practice. She said she was going to consider it. I will get my old bow and see if I am up to it as well.

8 Molioris 9:25.- We have received a boy for apprenticeship, Roderick Gilmore. He is a gentle young man, always eager to help. Maybe he will be a good influence on our daughter.

23 Ferventis 9:24.- Nerissa and I had a big fight. She continues to refuse to come with me to the gatherings. I refuse to let her go down to Highever. She has a strong will, but so do I. Bryce refuses to help me. She does not understand. It is true that taking part in social activities is not all there is in life, but she is the daughter of a Teyrn. She has duties. The only good thing that comes from this is that every time she is angry, she takes up the bow and practices until her arms are sore. But still, I will not give in to this spoiled attitude. I should definitely tell Bryce that his duty is to support me. I am her mother. I know what is best for her.

14 Matrinalis 9:24.- Nerissa escaped today. Bryce said that he found her in Highever, visiting some friends in town. I was so worried about losing her. And Bryce is not helping. He bought her a Mabari dog. A woman with a mabari – whoever saw that before? Fergus said that it should make me feel better, because mabari hounds are formidable protectors. The dog is very pretty. His name is Virgil. I cannot be mad at the dog. I am mad at Nerissa, though.

15 Pluitanis 9:25.- Nerissa has finally learnt to dance like a lady. I think that she feels more comfortable with her body. She still swears like a sailor when she thinks that I am not listening.

19 Matrinalis 9:25.- Little Oren is very ill. Bryce is going to Kirkwall on business, and he told me he would be taking Nerissa with him, so that she would be safe. I am glad that he is always thinking of everything. I love him.

26 Parvulis 9:25.- Bryce and Nerissa returned today. Nerissa looked tired but content. Bryce said that she might be sick, though, so the physician is to examine her first thing in the morning.

6 Frumentum 9:25.- King Maric is said to have died on a voyage to the Free Marches. I shudder to think that Bryce could have been lost in the same way.

29 Umbralis 9:25.- We have a new King, Cailan Theirin. Nerissa said that he seemed to be about to faint when he was saying his vows. He looked very young and scared. But he is such a nice young man. He always has a smile and a kind word for everybody. I wish Nerissa found a man like that. We met a lot of prospective suitors at the banquet, but Bryce told me that I should not put pressure on her. I think he wants her to be a child forever.

4 Cassus 9:25.- Today Bryce and Nerissa went to the market and returned with several weapons. I dread to think what this means.

21 Ferventis 9:26.- Today Rory Gilmore entered the study room running and closed the door behind. I was about to ask him what was happening when I heard Virgil's barking outside. I think that dog enjoys chasing poor Gilmore. I wonder if Nerissa had something to do with it.

* * *

"You promised you wouldn't be angry," Bryce told Eleanor one morning.

"I do not think knives are the most appropriate thing for a young lady of her stature," she said, as she was brushing her long hair in front of the mirror.

"What's the difference? You taught her how to use the bow. She's good at that. Now she wants to learn how to use blades more effectively," he said, kissing her neck.

"Don't try to distract me, Bryce Cousland. I've seen what you brought from Denerim."

Bryce sighed. "I was hoping you'd fail to notice that. We were going to give it to you for your birthday, you know?"

"I mean the lockbox set!"

"That?" Bryce laughed. "Well, I needed to update the old one, and if Nerissa wants to learn how to use it, then she needs the latest version. Locks have changed a lot in the past few years, you know?"

"I just don't see the point," Eleanor said. "Archery is perfectly fine for a young lady. She doesn't need to run around, wielding knives and picking locks."

"Ah, my dear," he said, kissing her cheek and helping her braid her hair. "What you mean to say is that you'd be happy if she got stuck in a tree and found someone to help her get down."

Eleanor sighed. "I'm starting to sound like my mother, I know."

"I would never say that," Bryce chuckled.

Eleanor held his hand and kissed it. "It's just that I'm afraid. I would like to see her married and happy before we die, darling."

Bryce kissed her. "'My dear, I plan to live an eternity by your side. She's barely sixteen years old. Look, my love," he held her hands, "I understand your concern, but surely you've seen Nerissa fighting back every time you talk to her about being a lady. I think she will be once she finds the right person. But," he put a finger against her lips, "we've got to trust that she'll find that person when the time is right, not just because you force her to go out and attend your salons."

Eleanor sighed. "Fine." When she had finished doing her hair she asked, resignedly, "How can I help, then?"

Bryce smiled.

* * *

"Your mother will be working with you today," Bryce told his daughter.

Nerissa looked at her mother and pursed her lips. "Do you know what you have to do?"

"Yes. Throw the balls to you and you'll have to hit them with that stick," Eleanor said.

Nerissa rolled her eyes. "It's not like that. Dad!"

Bryce sighed. "Eleanor, you have to throw the ball_ at_ her, not _to _her. She has to block your attack. Like this," he took a ball from a basket and swung it at his daughter, who hit it and sent it away. Virgil ran after the ball and caught it, and then trotted back to where the basket was and left it there, covered in drool. Eleanor looked at the ball contemptuously.

"This isn't going to work if she's afraid of a little drool in her hands, Dad," Nerissa scoffed.

Eleanor smirked. "I'll show you who's afraid of a little drool," she muttered. She took the ball and threw it at her daughter, who blocked it just in time.

"I'll, uh, leave you to work, then," Bryce said, stepping back slowly before finally turning around and leaving.

Eleanor's arms were used to working hard, and Nerissa felt it. Yet, she blocked all the balls her mother threw. Until Eleanor threw two, and one hit Nerissa on the face.

"Fuck!" Nerissa shouted, rubbing her cheek.

"Language!" Eleanor yelled.

"Why did you do that?" Nerissa yelled back.

"Because getting hit by something you expect is not realistic," Eleanor shouted.

Nerissa grunted. This time, she was ready, and when the second ball came right after the first one, she sent it back towards Eleanor, hitting her on the chest. Eleanor winced, but she did not say a word.

"I must assume that my attackers expect me to defend myself, am I right?" Nerissa shouted.

Eleanor nodded and took three balls from the baskets.

* * *

"Why is Nerissa working with your lockbox set?" Eleanor asked Bryce. Bryce sheltered his eyes from the sun and made out the figure of his slightly annoyed wife.

"She's practicing with the torque wrench," he explained happily.

"Bryce!" Eleanor hissed. "I am fine with her defending herself, but this… This is excessive!"

"Eleanor, the girl's no warrior maiden. She just wants to learn some skills-"

"Picking locks? So that she can escape whenever she wants?"

"I don't need to escape," Nerissa said, wishing her parents would be quiet so that she could hear if the pins were in the right position. "Dad has allowed me to leave whenever I want." She was sitting on the floor, and she looked dirty and sweaty.

Eleanor looked at Bryce, who shrugged.

"I trust she knows what's best for her. She's been allowed to leave the castle since we came back from Kirkwall, almost two years ago. Have you seen her escape?"

"No, but-"

"Well then," Bryce said, going back to his reading, "I guess that means we can all trust each other, right?"

Eleanor looked at both of them before leaving the room silently.

* * *

"Now, pup," Bryce said, after arraying a display of daggers over the workbench, "say that you find a person wearing chainmail armor. The most likely outcome is that the blade you usually rely on will get stuck in the link joints and then you'll find yourself in a disadvantageous position. What kind of blade do you need?"

Nerissa approached the table. All the blades looked similar. She looked back at the chainmail and then at the table. She picked a long, straight blade with a sharp tip and gave it to his father, who looked at her inquisitively.

"I thought that even if the links in the mail were too close, I'd still be able to successfully puncture it."

Bryce smiled. "Well, let's see. Ser Gilmore, would you care to help this lady here?"

"M-m-me?" Ser Gilmore stuttered. He looked at Nerissa, holding the blade intently.

"Yes, young man. Put on the chain mail and let us put her idea to the test."

Ser Gilmore looked at them as if they were both crazy. "It's n-not, n-necessary, milord. I th-think m-milady's right."

Bryce laughed. "It was just a joke, Gilmore. Relax. Use the dummy, Nerissa."

Nerissa stood in front of the dummy. She stuck the dagger right through the front part. The dagger successfully penetrated the armor. She smiled at her father. He shook his head. "My dear," he said seriously. "No man wearing a chainmail will let you get close to him so that you gingerly pierce him through the navel." He took the dagger from her. "This is good for the back," he stabbed the dummy in the back, almost burying it to the hilt, "or under the arm." Once again, he sank the dagger in almost too deep. "Now, if you're fighting for your life, you hold it like this," and he showed her a reversed grip position. "Now, practice. Back, under arm, over arm, reverse. A hundred times."

"Mother would say that a dummy's not realistic enough," Nerissa said, receiving the blade from her father and approaching the dummy.

"Don't even think of using your mother instead of the dummy," Bryce said, wagging a finger. Nerissa laughed.

* * *

"The life of the bard would be difficult for you," Fergus mocked her from behind his book as she tuned the strings of her lute during a winter night.

"Why's that?" Nerissa asked, surprised.

"Most female bards have a reputation for being seductresses and really good singers. They are supposed to ensnare the senses with their voices, like mermaids, so that then their targets are vulnerable. I can't picture you being seductive, and let's not even mention your singing voice," Fergus laughed. Bryce stared at him, a veiled half-smile on his face.

"Are you saying I can't sing?" Nerissa pouted.

"I think Virgil can sing better than you," her brother replied. Virgil raised his head and huffed.

Nerissa smiled, looked at her father, and nodded. He nodded back. She stood next to the fire and supported the lute against her chest, keeping it close with the right wrist and her left hand on its neck. She was playing with an oiled quill now, since she wanted to preserve the sensitivity of the fingertips. The strumming started slowly, and then she picked up the tempo, moving her feet along with the music, dancing around the room. Then the strings were plucked in a very gentle yet playful way, and she finished with a soft strumming. Fergus clapped. Nerissa smiled at him mischievously.

"Where's my book?" Fergus asked, looking around. Nerissa and Bryce laughed.

"Bards don't need to work on their own to be dangerous, boy," Bryce said, showing Fergus the book he had taken from his son while he had been distracted by Nerissa. Fergus blushed. Nerissa sat at her father's feet and he stroked her hair lovingly. "That reminds me, dear. If you ever decide to go a little further and try the whole 'sneaking and blending with the shadows' idea, you have to stop using your Embrium scent. Shadows shouldn't be smelled."

"I'd rather smell better. I wouldn't want to be a shadow anyway," she shrugged.

* * *

"Are you awake?" Bryce asked her.

"I am now," Nerissa mumbled against her pillow.

"Happy birthday, darling," Eleanor cooed.

Nerissa sat up, her disheveled hair stuck to her face. She yawned and looked at her parents. "What's with the smiles?"

Bryce pointed to a bundle wrapped in gunny cloth, lying over the chest. Nerissa got up and opened it. Studded leather. A rough set. She caressed the lines of the leather. This reminded her of Nathaniel. She turned to her parents, beaming, and hugged them.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Bryce encouraged her.

"Let's leave her alone," Eleanor said. Before leaving the room, she poked her head inside and asked, "Do you need any help with the buckles?"

Nerissa was about to ask her mother to leave her alone, but today she was in a good mood, so she nodded, and Eleanor went back in the room, leaving Bryce outside. She helped Nerissa into the armor and told her that in time, the leather would adjust to the forms of her body, and it would feel more comfortable.

"Like a lover," Nerissa sighed.

"Well, when you have one, you'll tell me," Eleanor kissed her cheek and left her alone so that she would do her hair. She came out of the bedroom, and her mother smiled.

"Wow…" Fergus grinned, as he came out of his chambers. "Your first set. How does it feel?"

"The boots feel a little tight," Nerissa winced, trying to stand on the tip of her toes and then changing to the heels.

"You'll get used to it," Bryce said, in his own leather armor. "Come on, pup; we've got a hard day ahead." Father and daughter walked away.

Eleanor raised her voice. "Remember that tomorrow-"

"We remember!" They shouted, and sprinted away.

Eleanor sighed. She looked at Fergus. He smiled clumsily. "You'll do," she said. "Come; I need some help with the preparations for your sister's birthday."

* * *

"No, no. You've got to work harder on your left hand, Nerissa." Bryce was checking the dummy for punctures. "This isn't the neck of the lute. You haven't even reached the core. I can't see the grains coming out of this stuffed doll."

Nerissa rubbed her left wrist. She opened and closed her fingers several times, hoping that the numbness would go away. The cold of winter was getting to her, and she felt that the leather armor was not enough anymore. "Maybe," she said pensively, "I should use the iron dagger on my main hand and a rondel on my slow hand."

"The rondel is a fast weapon, and it's always good for a slow hand," Bryce said calmly. "But can you handle it properly? So far, all I can see is that you can't do a reverse grip attack or dig it properly with your left hand. You lack the strength. You need something to make up for it. The only way you can make it work on the slow hand is if you use poison on it."

Nerissa frowned. "I have no idea about that," she said reluctantly.

"We can always as Oriana," she said.

Her daughter looked at her. "What makes you think that Oriana knows something about that?" She cast a quick glance at her father. Had he told her mother what she had told him in secret?

"Darling," Eleanor smiled sweetly. "You don't think we only press flowers and distillate perfumes when we're on our own in the women's room, do you?"

"I thought you were making liquor," Bryce admitted. "I was looking forward to having some cherry liquor next winter."

"We can ask Oriana about some of those flasks she has been working on," Eleanor said to her daughter. Nerissa nodded.

Oriana was more than happy to help. Now that Oren was six years old, he enjoyed spending time with his father more than any other thing in the world, and she felt cast aside. She was grateful for Fergus, though, because she was not fond of 'war games', as she called Fergus's strategy sessions with Oren and Bryce, and lately, that was all that Oren had in mind. That and his hobby-horse.

"I think a deathroot extract would be good for you," Oriana said, looking at the little flasks in her cabinet. "Ooh! I've just remembered. If you use it in the form of powder, you can use it to paralyze. As soon as your attacker breathes it in, he'll be stunned. Just remember not to sniff your fingers afterwards, or pass them near your nostrils. Now… _Where_ is it… Ah, here it is!" She took a dusty flask from the back and handed it to Nerissa. "This is pure deathroot extract, in liquid form."

"How am I supposed to use it?" Nerissa said, watching the bluish liquid move slowly inside the vial. "Is this one of those flasks that you can throw at your enemies?"

"No," Eleanor said. "This is the one that you use for coating your blades. If you want your off-hand to give you the same advantages as your main one, this is a good way of getting it." She sighed. "I never got to use these things. It would be really hard work to coat all the heads in a quiver. I've also heard of arrows with enchantment, but I think those are too expensive."

"What you must remember, though," Oriana said, "is that these work only for a brief spell of time. So they are no good if you also get poisoned-"

"-or if you don't use that short time to your advantage," Eleanor finished. Nerissa looked at her mother, then at her brother's wife, then back at her mother.

"So I must be quick and careful while working with this," she finally said with a gasp. "I'd_ never _have guessed it, working with _poisons_!"

"Save the smart mouth for another time, my girl," Eleanor patted her on the head. "For instance, for that moment when your father tells you that you're still not good enough, even after all the time you've spent practicing." Eleanor saw Nerissa bite her lips. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"I think you did," her daughter said coolly, in spite of her blushing cheeks. "I will come back some other day, Oriana, when you can teach me how to work with these… substances. And we're by ourselves." Nerissa turned on her heels and left the room. Eleanor soon caught up with her.

"Why does it always have to be the same thing, Nerissa?"

"Because _you_ have decided to change for the worse, _Mother_."

Eleanor took her by the arm. "_I_ have changed? I have always been this way!"

Nerissa cackled. "No you haven't! You hated it when your mother told you where to go or what to do! I just can't believe that you have forgotten about those years!"

"How do you-?" Eleanor's eyes opened wide. "_Did you read my diary?_"

"I did," Nerissa said. "Fergus a warrior, Gwyn a scholar, and Nerissa some trouble? Trying to get Dad to side with you in every fight? I'm so glad he actually doesn't listen to you every time you ask him for something like that!"

"How did you get that diary?" Eleanor asked in a very low voice.

"I picked the lock in your chest, how do you think I did it? Magic? Andraste's ass, Mother, I wonder if you actually know something, _anything_, about me-" Eleanor's hand crossed her daughter's face. Nerissa held a hand to her cheek and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Eleanor stormed into her own room, pacing up and down her chambers, her blood boiling. _That girl._ That girl was going to drive her right to her grave. Going through her personal belongings. Talking back. Neither she nor Bryce acted that way, ever. She remembered her own mother and smirked. If her mother was alive, she would be supporting Nerissa just to spite her. Eleanor frowned. Her mother. She looked for her journal, the one Nerissa had read. She traced the pages filled with her handwriting. She started reading from the beginning. All the memories came back to her, even the smallest things…

After a couple of hours, she went to Nerissa's room. She knocked on the door, but there was no answer. She entered. Nerissa was not there. She went down and little Oren came towards her. "Papa says he can't play with me because he's busy with Auntie Nerissa, but they're playing with balls and I want to play too! But Virgil gets all the balls and I am not fast enough to get any!" Big, fat tears were welling up in his eyes, dangerously quickly. Eleanor hugged him and held him by the hand. "Take me to Papa, Oren; I will talk to him. Don't cry."

Oren took her to the yard where Fergus was throwing balls at Nerissa. She was hitting one right after the other, tirelessly. Fergus was talking about going to Denerim for a couple of weeks, but she was barely listening. She only paid attention when the balls stopped coming. She looked at Fergus and saw her mother instead. Fergus had moved aside, holding Oren behind his legs, as if he wanted to protect him from a blast.

Eleanor walked up to her daughter. She stretched her hand to caress Nerissa's cheek, and was surprised to see that her daughter had not recoiled. In fact, she just stood there, waiting for her mother to take the first step. Eleanor held her against her chest, and Nerissa dropped her stick. She was not putting her arms around her mother, but Eleanor thought it was a good start.

"As from tomorrow, we'll see if you can start dodging arrows," she said to Nerissa with a smile. "With your blades. It's more realistic. Don't worry, my dear; I know you'll do fine. Always."

* * *

"Stop knocking on the door, I'm almost ready!" Nerissa shouted from inside the room. She looked at herself in the mirror. She placed some drops of essence behind her ears and smiled._ Ugh._ She groaned. She felt ugly.

The door of her room was flung open. Fergus barged in, a look of impatience in his face. But when he saw Nerissa, he was speechless. She looked older than her almost twenty years of age; her green eyes, the most remarkable feature of her face, looked brighter due to the contrast with her tanned skin, product of all those hours of training in the sun. Her once almost auburn hair had darkened as time had gone by, giving her a more exotic aspect. She was wearing a light-coloured dress.

"Fergus," she poked him in the nose. "I'm ready."

He offered her his arm. He had the feeling that his little sister would soon find a man to share her life with, and she would probably be gone from their everyday lives, and he felt somewhat sad about it.

* * *

"Landra, dear," Eleanor kissed her friend's cheeks. "I was so glad to hear that you would be able to join us for these little celebrations."

"I wouldn't miss one of Lady Cousland's spring salons. I always have so much fun!"

"You remember my son, Fergus, and his wife, Oriana," Eleanor said, trying to suppress a smile. Fergus always seemed to suffer whenever he was near Lady Landra. He kept holding on to Oriana's arm as if she was a shield.

"Ah yes – how do you do, milord. Milady," Landra curtsied and set her eyes on Nerissa. "My dear Lady Cousland!" She held Nerissa's hand. "You are more and more beautiful every year! Were we all that lucky," she said warmly. "My boys are here with me tonight. I don't believe you've met them before. Let me introduce you to them. Leonard! Dairren!" she called out. Two young men approached the Couslands. Nerissa's eyes opened in recognition, but then she remembered that she was not supposed to know them.

She noticed the younger one muttering something to the older one. "This is Leonard, my eldest," Lady Landra said proudly. Leonard bowed, pressed his lips to her signet ring and greeted her blankly. "Milady Cousland." Nerissa nodded.

"And this is Dairren, my second child," the mother said. Dairren walked up to Nerissa, occupying his brother's spot. There was a mischievous smile dancing in his brown eyes. "How do you do, milady?" His voice was lower than she remembered. He ignored the ring and brushed her fingers with his lips instead, his eyes looking for hers. Nerissa lowered her eyes and smiled.

**Next Chapter: Jowan **


	14. Jowan

**Jowan**

"Three, two, one – Now!"

"_A'ruinn'abasch_," Gwyn whispered. There was a bluish haze twirling around his wrists, wrapping around his staff. The power was turned against the target. Gwyn saw Neria casting a shield, but she was too slow. Her body started to fizzle and she screamed. Gwyn waved his staff and whispered, "_haratto'gicka_" – the magic was instantly dispelled.

"Are you all right?" He asked his friend.

"Yes," Neria said, panting. "What-What was that? A walking bomb?" Gwyn nodded. Their instructor was watching them carefully, and so were the three Templars in the room. Gwyn felt tired. He rubbed his forehead and frowned.

"Are _you _all right?" Neria asked softly. She was standing beside him, a concerned look on her face.

"Yes," Gwyn smiled. "I haven't been sleeping very well, that's all."

"Oh, is this because of Torrian? Don't worry, I'm sure he'll be fine," she reassured him.

"I don't know," Gwyn said, casting a glance at the Templars. "He was worried about it as well. What if he doesn't pass it? Do you really think they would make him…?" He could not bring himself to say the word. How funny, he thought, that he had got accustomed to dealing with Tranquils, and now that there was a chance that Torrian… But no. That was not an option. "Master Alenn, how long does the Harrowing take?"

"There isn't a specific amount of time for the ritual. The better the student is, the faster it is over. I assume you are worried about Apprentice Torrian?" Alenn frowned. "Fear not. That boy has great potential. He is a fighter, and I am sure he will finish soon. Neria, are you ready to try your offensive casting now?" Neria nodded and got into a stance. "Gwyn, focus," Alenn said.

Gwyn nodded and stood still. He saw Neria's lips move and the power transferring to her staff. "_V'air'ocksen_," he whispered, and waved his staff, creating a circle of air around him, a purplish tint covering him. He saw the flames come closer and die upon touching his shield. But his mind was tired, and the shield died as well. He jumped backwards to avoid the last flames.

"Hmm… You have yet to perfect it, but good job," Alenn said. "You look a little pale, though. Why don't you get some rest?"

"I will. Thank you, Master Alenn." Gwyn took his staff and walked over to the second floor, followed by Neria. The two nineteen-year-olds had become really close in the last year, and they were always paired together for practice. After their staves had been returned to the stockroom, they went back to the common room. Jowan was sleeping. Lately he had been awake at strange times. Gwyn had seen him walking out of the room many times in the middle of the night, especially those days in which he and Torrian stayed near the fire, talking and cuddling in the dark.

The group had started splitting when Anders passed his Harrowing. As a mage, albeit a junior one, he had been busy performing duties different from those of the apprentices; on top of that, he had received a bedroom on the second floor. Wynne was working with him, and Gwyn was occasionally allowed to participate in their sessions, since healing was also his path. Anders's relationship with Gwyn had become tense in the last year, but since they were no longer spending much time together, they seemed to appreciate each other's company from time to time.

Jowan was supposed to follow Anders in his Harrowing, but his call did not come. He had not passed his theoretical exams, and was forced to move to Gwyn's and Neria's group. Their friends knew he had resented the change, but he was not the kind of man who would openly talk about his personal problems. He did, however, express his discomfort about the budding relationship between Gwyn and Torrian – not to them, but to Neria.

"I shudder to think about the two of them together. It is sick," he said to her one day.

"What do you mean?" Neria asked.

"Don't you feel bad about it? Knowing that the person who kissed you is now kissing another person? A _man_?" Every word that came out of his mouth felt as if he was vomiting poison.

Neria shrugged. "Why would I feel bad about it?"

"It is disgusting. Maker have mercy on their souls," Jowan said, but seeing the two boys approaching, he muttered something and walked away. Torrian and Gwyn were not even holding hands. They were simply walking together. Neria did not understand why Jowan felt their connection was horrid. If anything, she envied them. Gwyn was happier than ever before, and Torrian seemed to have found a certain peace of mind in his companion that suited him.

* * *

Gwyn was sleeping when he felt the clanking of armored Templars coming in the room. He opened his eyes and peered at the tall figures that were now leaving Torrian's body on his bed. Gwyn's heart started racing, and as soon as the Templars were gone, he jumped out of his bed and rushed to Torrian's side.

"Tor," he called softly, caressing his companion's cheek and jawline. Torrian was sound asleep. Gwyn gave a sigh of relief and pressed his lips against Torrian's forehead. He sat on the floor, next to Torrian's bed, and held his hand until he fell asleep as well.

* * *

He felt a soft breeze playing with his hair. His eyes still closed, he moved his head to continue sleeping. Something was gently tugging at his hair. He opened his eyes sleepily and found Torrian's deep blue eyes, gazing at him.

"Good morning," Torrian said cheerfully.

It took Gwyn's brain several seconds to process the image. Once this was done, he beamed at his companion and turned to hug him.

"Why did it take you so long?" he asked. "I was worried sick about you!"

"My, such little confidence in my abilities is bound to make me sad," Torrian pouted. "The test actually started later than they'd planned because of Wendell. He was sick all over the place, ugh. And what are you doing down there? Isn't the floor an uncomfortable place to sleep? You could have joined me in bed, you know…"

"No." Gwyn blushed. "But I didn't want to leave you. This was your last night here. You'll probably lodge with Anders now."

"You're not jealous, are you?" Torrian teased.

Gwyn frowned. "A little. But if everything goes fine, I'll join you next year. Until then…" He patted Torrian's hand with a smile.

Torrian looked around, making sure that nobody was watching. He leaned forward and gave Gwyn a long kiss, leaving him breathless. "You're going to be the death of me," he growled playfully. "You and your _'I'm not ready to do anything yet'_ arguments."

Gwyn blushed. "But it is true! I… There is no privacy here!" He whispered angrily, "And I'm not going to lift up my robes in some dirty corner, or against a bookcase, or… or in the privy room!"

"Oh, I see you've been devoting some time to think about that business," Torrian chuckled. "Well, it's something. At least it gives me hope."

Gwyn shook his head, but then smiled and looked away. The door had opened and Anders had come in.

"Oh! You're awake. Good to see you're fine. Does your head hurt?"

"Should it?" Torrian raised an eyebrow.

"Well, mine certainly did when I came to. But I think Greagoir must have taken the chance to hit me while I was in the…" He saw Gwyn. "Aaand forget I said anything, because I'm not supposed to talk about the Harrowing."

"I wasn't going to ask anyway," Gwyn said.

"Huh. I thought you were more curious," Anders said and winked, making Gwyn blush yet again. "But… You know, just to be safe. Anyway, Old Irving has sent me to fetch you. You're to be relocated on the second floor, as you must have realized, and you'll get your staff and new set of robes and all those things."

"Wonderful!" Torrian said, jumping out of the bed. "I should pack my things. I can't wait to have my own staff!"

"And you'll be bunking in my dormitory," Anders said, passing an arm over Torrian's shoulders. Gwyn got on his feet and walked to the privy room. His last moments with Torrian and he had to spend them with Anders there. _Calm down,_ he told himself. _There's nothing to worry about. Torrian likes you. He likes _you_._ He poured some water into his bowl and washed his face. Cold water always soothed him. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on positive things: Torrian was alive. He had passed his Harrowing. He would still be in the Hold, only a floor away.

He felt a pair of hands embracing him from behind; Torrian's impeccable stubble rubbed against his cheek. He opened his eyes and looked at Torrian's reflection on the mirror. He tried to smile, but Torrian would not buy it.

"What would accomplished duelist, renowned lover, and pirate nobleman Mattheus Pompadour do?" Torrian asked with a smile.

Gwyn chuckled, amused by his lover's mention of the adventurous character they had made up so long ago now. "He would kiss the object of his affection and exit through the window, promising he would return." He lowered his eyes. "But he never returned."

"Neither will I," Torrian said softly. "You will come to me instead." He kissed Gwyn lovingly. "You're my friend," he whispered. "And you're my love. Never forget that." Gwyn nodded, and Torrian left.

* * *

As it turned out, Gwyn need not have worried about Torrian and Anders sleeping together. That afternoon, Anders caused a monumental ruckus on the ground floor by summoning more beasts than the mages could handle, making the Templars fight and aid the enchanters. Amidst the confusion, he vanished. Greagoir was livid, blaming it on the youngest recruits, who stuttered their apologies and were sent to guard the hallways instead of the gates.

"I wish I had the gall to do that," Jowan muttered to Neria.

"For his sake, I hope he'll stay away for good this time," she replied. "If the Templars catch him again… I don't know what they will do to him. Tranquility, perhaps?"

Jowan shuffled uncomfortably. "That should never be an option."

"What? Afraid of it?" Neria touched her friend's hand gently. "I've heard that those who fear going through the Harrowing can request it instead."

"Cowards. I'd do my Harrowing in a heartbeat, if they gave me the chance. This situation is driving me crazy."

"Well, you still have one more year. Come, I'll help you with the texts."

"Thank you, honey," Jowan said, caressing her cheek. "You're a real friend."

* * *

"Thank you, First Enchanter," Gwyn said. "I know this must have caused trouble with the Knight-Commander, so I appreciate the effort you've made to give us this possibility."

Irving sighed. "I wish things didn't have to be this way, Gwyn. I really do. But I ran out of excuses for Anders's behaviour. This year in confinement may put things into perspective for him; help him see that we aren't as imprisoned as he says we are."

"I doubt he'll see it that way, First Enchanter," Gwyn replied gently.

"Yes, so do I. So remember: one hour per day, but no more than that."

"I understand. Thank you," Gwyn bowed and left Irving's study room.

* * *

"I don't want to eat today either," Anders said dispassionately, facing away from the bars of his cell. "But don't leave the food there, because the mice will come for it, and I don't want to be accused of using magic improperly for zapping them."

"Don't be silly," Gwyn said. "Of course you have to eat."

Anders turned around, surprised. "Gwyn!" He smiled and went towards his friend. "What are you doing here? How did they let you in?"

"Irving gave us permission to bring you lunch every day and stay with you while you eat," Gwyn smiled back. "I hope you don't mind."

"Mind! I…" Anders's eyes sparkled. "Andraste's flame, I swear I've never been happier to see you! How did you persuade him to-?"

"It was Torrian, actually. He couldn't come today because he's welcoming a group of apprentices that were transferred from Kirkwall," Gwyn told him proudly. "Irving and Greagoir chose him because of his 'remarkable spirit of cooperation' or something like that. So please, grab your meal and start eating."

Anders took the plate. "You're very lucky to have him, you know that?" he said slowly, fixing his gaze on Gwyn.

"Yes. Well, I don't _have_ him. It's not like he's mine… What?" he asked, hearing Anders's laughter.

"The guy's been yours for years now. Possibly since you came to the Circle. He was always looking after you, and whenever we were alone, he'd go _Gwyn this, Gwyn that_. Trust me; it's a good thing that you can hide it so well. Imagine what the Templars would do if they saw you two loving each other?"

"Oh, no. We still haven't- Wait. What do you mean?" Gwyn frowned and blushed.

Anders laughed. "I'm not talking about sex. I'm talking about love. You don't want to give them anything for them to use as a weapon against you."

There it was: the feeling that the entire world was against him. Gwyn had wondered how long it would take before it found its way into the conversation. "Hey," Gwyn said. "Did I ever tell you how we discovered my magic?"

"We?"

"Nerissa and I."

"I don't think you have," Anders shook his head. "But I'd be glad to hear that story now," he smiled as he sat down to eat and listen.

* * *

"Look at what Torrian brought!" Anders whispered excitedly, some months later. Gwyn moved closer to the bars and then he heard the soft meowing. "Is that…?"

"Mr Wiggums, yes!" Anders was beside himself with happiness. "Tor said that this beautiful thing was waiting for me near my working spot in the Gardens." The cat was curled up on his lap, and he was petting it gently.

"Are you sure the Templars won't say anything about this?"

"Not if they can't see him, and he's so smart he knows when not to meow!"

Gwyn wondered if Anders had started losing his mind. And what was Torrian thinking? He could get all of them in trouble, and then they would not be able to see Anders any longer. He sighed heavily, but tried to look happy for Anders's sake. He would have a chat with Torrian later.

* * *

"May I have a word with Enchanter Torrian, please?" Gwyn said, poking his head into Irving's study room. Neria and the other apprentices watched the dark-haired boy come out of the room with a puzzled look on his face.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, but Gwyn shook his head and beckoned for him to follow. When they got to the Senior Mages' library, Gwyn looked for a secluded place, surrounded by bookcases.

"What is the meaning of this?" Torrian asked. Gwyn's arms were folded across his chest. "Ah, I get it. Mr Wiggums."

"Do you have any idea what this might mean? We're barely allowed to take him his meals. If the Templars find the cat-!"

"Easy there. Calm down. They won't find it. Anders had already trained him to hide. Now you're getting all paranoid. Maybe you shouldn't see Anders anymore. He's rubbing off on you."

"What were you thinking? Why do you do these things?" Gwyn covered his face.

"You mean _how dared _I do something nice for a friend?" He gasped dramatically. "It's part of my charm, but you already know that," Torrian said, giving him a roguish smile.

Gwyn grumbled. He looked sideways at the apprentices that were far from them.

"What are you looking at? Is there some-?" Torrian was interrupted by Gwyn's kiss. Long. Warm. Unexpected. Torrian's body reacted after the first shock, and his hands moved over his lover's back, pressing him closer against his body.

"Oh, for the love of the Maker!" they heard and quickly pulled apart. They saw Jowan standing next to them, holding an ancient book. "Can't you just keep it to yourselves?"

"We were doing that," Torrian said. "What are you doing here? You are not supposed to borrow any of these books. These sections are not for apprentices."

Jowan stared at him, piqued by the distinction between apprentices and mages. "I was returning a book that someone had left lying about," he said. "Aren't you supposed to be assisting Irving in your class with Neria?"

Torrian gave him a cold look and Jowan responded with a nasty one. Gwyn felt terribly uncomfortable. Torrian rushed back to Irving's office.

"You know that what you're doing is unnatural, don't you?" Jowan said. "You should pray to the Maker for forgiveness."

"Since when do you care so much for the Maker?" Gwyn spat. "What would He say if He saw you reading those books?" He pointed at the book Jowan was holding. Jowan became pale. "Do you think I have no ears?" Gwyn went on. "That I didn't hear the rumours about you? Dabbling in bl-"

"You will shut your mouth," Jowan said. "You won't say another word about me. Oh, I see. _You_ must be the one spreading the rumours, hoping that the Templars will overlook what you've been doing with Torrian."

"If you feel like saying something about us, then be ready," Gwyn said in a whisper, close to Jowan's ear. "Because two can play this game, and they will come after you." Jowan gave him a cold, hard stare and then he turned around and left. Gwyn started shaking. He felt sick. He felt vile. He had never thought himself capable of threatening someone. He did not mind what could happen to him. But nobody messed with Torrian.

* * *

"Poor Anders," Neria said one evening. "He was devastated. He really loved that cat."

"He'll be proud of it when he learns that Mr Wiggums killed three Templars."

"Where did you hear that?"

"Cullen told me, who else? He's the only one that will take the time to speak with us."

"Jowan says he's been watching me," Neria giggled. "If only he knew I'm not interested in Templars."

"It's better to have at least one of them on our side, so don't tell him," Gwyn chuckled.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything."

"What's happened between you and Jowan?" Neria watched Gwyn's face with great interest. It clouded over pretty quickly. "Something must have happened for you to avoid each other as much as you can."

"I'm not sure. But I guess that now that we're adults, we're not forced to get along, right? I mean, we're civil towards each other because of you, but that's the extent of our friendship nowadays."

"Is there anything I can do for you two?" Neria asked, holding Gwyn's hand over the table. Gwyn kissed her hand and shook his head. She was such a sweet girl.

* * *

"What do you mean, 'gone'?" the apprentices asked one morning, as Irving tried to explain why the classes with Wynne had been cancelled.

"Our dear Wynne has received the call of the King and she will join the Royal Army." Irving looked at everybody's gaping faces. "You can close your mouths now. The King requested her presence in order to organize the group of healers that will aid the army gathering in the Korcari Wilds."

"Orlesians again?" an apprentice asked.

"Don't be silly," another said. "Why would the Orlesians attack from the Wilds? That's in the south!"

"Civil war?"

"In the Wilds? With the Chasind only," Gwyn said, "and they're a peaceful people." He looked at Irving. "These must be extraordinary circumstances."

Greagoir intervened. "Why must you all be so curious? Isn't it enough that we tell you that the classes will be suspended for the moment?" The apprentices fixed their eyes on him. Greagoir sighed. "Fine. If you must know, scouts have informed that there is a group of… Darkspawn near the Wilds."

Whispers covered the small room.

"I'm sorry," Gwyn said, raising his hand. "Do you mean _Darkspawn_ as in 'the monsters that used to be the corrupted Tevinter magisters of days of yore'?"

"Is there any other type?" Greagoir said.

"But weren't they eradicated four hundred years ago?" The apprentices started murmuring again.

"The rest should be of no concern to you. Do not start thinking that you will be attacked here. We are far from the conflict, and this is the safest place in Ferelden. Now, as the First Enchanter said before, Wynne will be gone for some time, at least until this has been solved. Thus, your lessons will be interrupted until further notice. You are all dismissed."

Greagoir turned to Irving as the apprentices slowly left the room. "Pray that this is not more serious than we think, because I will not be in the greatest of moods if the Wardens come to recruit more of you."

"The Wardens?" Gwyn said, standing behind Irving. "The Grey Wardens? Legendary vanquishers of the Blight?" His eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Apprentice Gwyn," Greagoir said, "I do not recall asking you to join in the conversation."

"I'm sorry, Knight-Commander. I couldn't help- You mean that the Wardens can actually recruit mages like us into their ranks? I thought they had other mages. Wow!"

"You are not looking for a way out of here, are you, lad?" Greagoir turned to face Gwyn and crossed his arms.

"Greagoir," Irving protested. "How many times have you seen this one escape?" The Knight-Commander grunted.

* * *

"Can you imagine?" Gwyn said, looking away from his books. "Being a Grey Warden. That's _beyond_ the stuff of legends!" Torrian looked at him across the table. He was helping Gwyn with his memorization of spells, now that his Harrowing was one week away. "It's everybody's dream, don't you agree?"

"Yes," Torrian said calmly.

"I thought you'd be more excited about it! You know, part of me would like to be there when the Wardens appear. They must be a majestic view."

"Not since they lost their Gryffons, no," Torrian chuckled.

"Unstoppable warriors, from all across the land!" Gwyn was too far gone to continue studying. He went on talking about the stories he had read, and Torrian looked at him with a smile on his face. He rested his head on his left hand and let him ramble. It was this kind of moment that he wanted to remember. Gwyn was always so restrained; he had such self-control that every time he found something he was passionate about, Torrian was just happy to sit back and listen. This time, however…

"Gwyn," Torrian leaned forward and extended his left hand, covering his companion's. Gwyn blushed –still, after all this time– and withdrew his hand, but looked at him attentively. Torrian's fingers drew circles on the table.

"Uh-oh," Gwyn said.

"What?"

"Every time you do that it's because something bad is going to happen. You did it the first time you kissed me as well."

"Well then, it wasn't entirely bad, was it?" He tried to laugh but failed. "There's something I must tell you."

"Just say it," Gwyn said, trying to control his voice.

"Irving has received a letter, announcing the visit of the Warden Commander to the Circle, in a week approximately."

Gwyn gasped. "_The_ Warden Commander? What's his name? Will he be recruiting? Are you serious?" He sounded extremely excited.

Torrian smiled faintly. "I don't know his name. But Irving says that recruitment is probably what he has in mind. Gwyn," Torrian looked at his lover. "Irving wants to offer me as a recruit."

Gwyn's face lit up. "You? A Warden? Dear Maker, I can't believe it! Why aren't you more excited about it?" Why was Torrian so silent? And then it struck him. Those who became legends were the ones who died. Irving was sending him to the battlefield. Torrian was not a healer – he was a fighter. "No," Gwyn whispered. "No. Tell me you said no."

"I didn't say no," Torrian murmured. "It's about defending Ferelden. How could I say no, when we live here?"

"Greagoir said we were safe in here," Gwyn murmured.

"And what about your family?" Torrian said. "Do you think they'll be safe if the Darkspawn take over everything?"

Gwyn held the hand he had rejected before and looked into Torrian's eyes. "My family lives in a castle. They have an army. They are far up north. Nothing can happen to them. But you, you're my family now. Please, tell me you won't go."

"I've already given my word to Irving," Torrian says. "If the Warden finds me fitting, I'll go with him."

Gwyn looked down. "Will you stay until my Harrowing, at least?" His voice was a sad whisper.

"Yes," Torrian said, pressing his hand. "The Warden will come after that day, so I'll be here to see you become a mage."

* * *

Gwyn had been taken from his room in the middle of the night. He had been waiting for the Templars to come for him. Everything in the previous eight years had led to this moment. At the chamber, he could not help thinking that Irving and Greagoir sounded like an old couple, shushing each other when it came to revealing what he would face. But nothing mattered to him, other than the fountain that contained the lyrium that would send him into the Fade. He was ready.

* * *

The air had a sweet and musky scent. He remembered this place. Many years ago he had made the mistake of chasing after a figure. But nothing was real here, except for himself. The landscape was strange. Twisted. It reminded him of the shapes and forms that one normally saw while dreaming, except for the fact that he was fully awake. He was not really sure about what to do. He tried to take a few steps, and his body felt light. There was a light shining on top of a little hill.

As soon as he got closer, the light zapped him. A wisp. Gwyn felt the heat concentrating on his right palm. He snapped the fourth finger against the thumb and raised his left hand to augment his power. A light-blue bolt surged from him, making his arm tingle, and hit the wisp. The wraith was gone. Another wisp took over. Gwyn stretched his fingers and repeated his actions. The second wraith was dead too.

_Is this all there is?_ Gwyn wondered. He walked over to where the remains of the wisps were lying. They had been protecting a small pouch, which contained one of those Elfroot potions Anders used to make. Gwyn pondered whether this was the real Fade, or if the mages had made up this place as some sort of training spot.

He saw a figure approaching. **So, you must be another apprentice going through their Harrowing: thrown into the flames and left to burn.**

"That I am," Gwyn said.

**Tell me, apprentice: don't you think it would be better if you were pitted against other mages to prove your skill instead of being trapped here, until you kill or are killed by a demon?**

"We mages are no warriors, spirit," Gwyn replied. "This is a test of will, not one of strength. Who are you?"

**I am Valor, a warrior spirit,** the figure said.

Gwyn watched him for a while. He looked around. They were on their own. "So you're the one I'm supposed to fight against," Gwyn asked, reading his fighting stance.

**What makes you say that?** the spirit asked.

"_A'ruinn'abasch,_" Gwyn whispered. His hands glowed blue and he raised his left hand to direct the power against his target. It hit the spirit on the chest.

**What nonsense is this, mortal?** the spirit growled, adopting a defensive stance.

"Where is Justice?" Gwyn asked, feeling his right palm tingling with electricity. "Valor without Justice makes room for injustice; when on its own, it represents the supremacy of the strongest."

The spirit smiled at him. **And you would believe what your spiritual leaders tell you. Have you no mind of your own? Have you no desire for freedom?**

Gwyn laughed. "You're talking to the wrong mage, demon." He snapped his finger and thumb and shot a bolt towards the spirit, who was now starting to change its form.

**There is no Justice here, **the demon laughed.** Justice is long gone from your realm, and so is Valor. There is only Need. Let us see if your will is as sharp as your tongue. **And there it was: the beast he had faced so long ago. But there was no brother or sister to aid him today. He was on his own.

He ran backwards, never letting his target out of sight, but never looking at the demon in the eye. What was the point of training with staves if they were not allowed to use one here? And then he remembered: mages could will things into being. He wondered if that also applied to the Fade. He waved his hands, drawing a figure with his fingers and whispered, "_Hal'rovaus_." The demon lunged at him, but as soon as it crossed the glyph, it activated, trapping it for some seconds. Gwyn barely had time to draw another shape and whisper, "_Sik'chere._" The warding glyph shone bright under his feet. _Think, think, think,_ he said to himself. _Focus._ He visualized the image of the staff he had worked with for years now, and felt the weight of it in his right hand.

**You understand what Need is; I can see it. That is what I want, mortal, **the demon said.** You can do this here, and you can do this in your realm. Let me in, and I promise you that-**

"One of your kind made the same offer a long time ago," Gwyn interrupted the demon. "And it died. Anything can die."

**Ah, yes.** The demon smiled, **But can ****_you _****kill anything?** Its form changed and it turned into Torrian._ "Gwyn,"_ he called. _"This can be over soon, if you wish it."_

Gwyn clenched his teeth. It was not real. He was not there. "I wonder why mages ever fall for your tricks, demon," he said. "I can see your true form, even now."

The demon hissed and waved its hands. Gwyn's head was filled with images of faceless creatures, melting bodies, disfigured, bloodied. _Focus! _He shook his head and saw the demon waving its arms again. His legs felt weak and gave way. He fell backwards and felt a cold breeze coming from behind. A lyrium vein. He mustered his strength and reached out for the lyrium. He had never used it before, at least not in this form. A wild torrent of energy filled him up, and he turned around to face the demon once more. "_E'puis'are_," he whispered, draining the beast's mana. The demon fell to the floor and Gwyn swung the staff at its head, knocking it out. "_A'ruinn'abasch,_" he whispered once more, and the body of the demon started fizzling until it disappeared with a blast.

Gwyn panted. His heart felt as if it wanted to escape through his mouth. He hit the staff against the floor.

_What now,_ he thought. A moment later, the images of the Fade started swirling around him; a whirlpool of pale colours and a musky scent, and then it was over.

* * *

He opened his eyes. Neria was looking at him, her amber-coloured eyes searching for any sign of movement. She smiled at him and hugged him.

"You're alive! I was so scared! Does your head hurt?"

Gwyn rubbed his eyes. "Is it morning already?"

"Yes," she said. "They brought you in a couple of hours ago. Congratulations, dear. Was it difficult? Wait, you're not supposed to talk about that. The First Enchanter said that he wanted to talk with you as soon as you were ready. He's waiting for you."

Gwyn sat up. Jowan was looking at him from a distance. His eyes reflected a certain longing that Gwyn knew too well, but Jowan's was stained by envy. Gwyn understood. A younger apprentice had been deemed worthy of something he had been denied, in spite of having lived there for a longer time. Gwyn got up and Jowan left the room. Neria put a hand of Gwyn's shoulder.

"Let him be," she asked softly. "He's sad because his time hasn't come yet."

Gwyn looked at her. She was so sweet, so innocent. He hugged her.

"Please, take care of yourself," he whispered in her ear. He let go of her, gathered his things, and went over to the second floor.

* * *

He looked at his bed. It looked enormous, compared to the one he had had for years. But he remembered his life in Highever, and this seemed quite like the bed he had once known. There was a bookcase and a desk, and even though it was a dormitory, there was privacy for everybody there, thanks to the arrangement of the furniture. He put his few possessions on the shelf and took a closer look at his staff. Owain had made it for him. The Tranquil had given him the staff himself, and Gwyn wanted to think that he was proud of his work.

* * *

"Aunt Elissa," he called. Elissa turned around.

"Hello, Gwyn," she said.

"I've passed my Harrowing," he told her.

"Congratulations," she said, in the same tone. He walked towards her and hugged her. She did not put her arms around him, but she said, "I assume you are happy."

"I am. I just wanted to tell you about it."

"Thank you," she said. Gwyn smiled at her and left her alone.

* * *

The ceiling looked higher than ever before. The room was dark and cool. Gwyn lay on his back, watching. He was nervous. He pulled the blanket up to his nose and kept looking up, while his ears continued picking up on the new, strange sounds that-_What was that._ He heard muffled steps, and the soft rustling of a robe. He saw a dark figure appear at the foot of his bed. _Torrian._

"What are you doing here? If the Templars catch you-"

Torrian moved closer. "They won't." He sat on the edge of the bed. Gwyn could not see his face, but his voice was expressive enough. "Congratulations on your Harrowing. I'm sorry I couldn't see you earlier, but Irving made me train harder today."

"It's fine," Gwyn smiled. He could not help but feel nervous. It was late. And for the first time in their lives, they were alone. He remembered all the times Torrian had teased him about being together, and his heart started to beat faster. He did not know how to do anything. He would not know what to do. He was not sure he wanted to do anything, either. But he thought of Torrian's feelings and needs. Should he say something?

By the time he had finished thinking about all that, Torrian had got into bed with him. He was not touching Gwyn. He was lying on his back, looking up, holding his companion's hand. For a long time, they kept that position. There were no words between them, only a nervous silence. Torrian turned towards Gwyn, lying on his side, and whispered, "I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean?" Gwyn whispered back as he turned towards his lover.

"I thought that once I had you here… I don't know. That I'd instantly react and know what to do. But I have no idea." He stroked Gwyn's cheek and sighed.

"What do you want to do?" Gwyn asked, kissing Torrian's hand.

"I want to be with you. But perhaps, sleeping by your side is enough for us. At least enough for today."

Gwyn nodded and smiled. He moved his head closer to Torrian's and nuzzled him lovingly. He kissed him softly on the lips and Torrian sighed happily. Gwyn kissed him again, tentatively, cupping his lover's face with his right hand, his thumb stroking his jawline gently. Torrian accepted the kisses, but he was not returning them. Gwyn intensified the pressure on his lips and passed his fingers through Torrian's hair. Torrian quivered and suppressed a moan. Gwyn smiled and gave him a kiss with parted lips. Torrian used his left hand to pull Gwyn closer as they both melted in one long kiss. Their hands found each other's bodies, each other's skin. Sheltered by the quilt and the darkness of the room, they finally found each other, and there was nothing but love between them.

* * *

"The Grey Warden is here," Torrian told Gwyn a few days later.

Gwyn finished working with a potion and looked at him. "Are you going to show him your abilities today?"

"No, tomorrow. Apparently the Warden has separated from his group and decided to spend the night here."

"They should take Anders with them," Gwyn said. He stopped. "They should take Anders! He's a good healer, and it's his chance to be outside!"

"Anders would run away as soon as he's out of here, you know that."

"Do you think he would ignore the- Forget I said anything. Yes, he would," Gwyn sighed. "I'm sorry, it's just… You know how I feel about this."

"I know, yes. In other news, Neria passed her Harrowing."

"I thought it was supposed to be next week?"

"No, they found a stash of lyrium in a Templar area, and to avoid the embarrassment, Greagoir ordered that they put one of us through the Harrowing."

"Not Jowan?"

"Neria's better, you know that. I saw her just now, coming out of the chapel."

"That's odd. She never goes there."

"She was busy, but she said she would stop by. Her room is on the other side of the floor, with the women."

"I'm glad for her," Gwyn smiled. "She is so clever and nice."

"Reminds me of someone," Torrian whispered in Gwyn's ear. Gwyn chuckled.

"Ah, and here he is," they heard Irving's voice at the door. "And in good company, as usual," Irving smiled at Gwyn.

"First Enchanter," Gwyn bowed. He looked at Irving's companion. Tall, dark, handsome. He was younger than he expected. He was armed.

"Pleased to meet you," the Warden Commander said. His voice was pleasant. Deep and kind. Gwyn and Torrian nodded in deference. "My name's Duncan, Commander of the Grey in Ferelden." He looked at Gwyn, who was barely restraining himself from cheering. "I understand you're a healer?"

"I am, yes!" Gwyn exclaimed. "I specialize in the schools of creation and spirit."

"I don't know much of the schools of magic, I'm afraid," Duncan apologized.

"Oh, don't worry! The only thing you have to know is that I'm good to have around. I am one of Senior Enchanter Wynne's apprentices."

"Ah, Wynne, yes. Wait. Are you the one who's always running away or the Cousland?"

Gwyn froze. Torrian spoke for him. "We don't use our family names here. But he's not the one who runs away, trust me."

"And you are Torrian, right? Irving has spoken highly of you. Are you a healer as well?"

"No, I specialize in primal and entropy spells. Fire and ice are my spells of choice, but I'm also partial to paralysis and disorienting spells."

"Both of you sound like you'd be interesting additions to our ranks," Duncan said, impressed. "And you complement each other as well, because from what I've heard, you work on different schools." Gwyn and Torrian smiled at each other.

"It's a pity that you won't be able to have them, Commander," Greagoir's voice came from behind.

"Surely you understand what kind of situation we're facing, Knight-Commander," Duncan said gently.

"There's no need for us to bicker in front of our new brothers, is there?" Irving sighed. "Come, gentlemen. Let's adjourn to my study room."

* * *

Finn came running towards the library. "She's been expelled! Neria's been expelled!"

Gwyn closed his book and ran towards the gates of the Circle, where many students had gathered. He found Torrian standing next to Neria and Duncan. Greagoir and Irving were arguing about something, and there were some Templars restraining the small group of onlookers. Duncan said something, but Gwyn was not able to hear him, since the apprentices and the mages were murmuring, and he saw Torrian hugging Neria, who was crying. Duncan turned to her and she nodded, and the two of them walked towards the gates, leaving together.

Torrian spotted Gwyn and ran towards him. He took him to the side. "Jowan… He stole his phylactery. He persuaded Neria to help him. He attacked them, with blood magic, and escaped."

Gwyn felt sick. He could have said something and prevented this from happening.

"He was in a relationship with a Chantry sister. She's been taken to Aeonar."

Had it been his fault?

"I asked Duncan to take her," Torrian said. "I gave up my spot. I didn't want her to be taken to Aeonar as well. It was the only way to save her."

* * *

They lay in bed, together. Torrian had fallen asleep long ago, but Gwyn remained awake. He could not stop thinking about Neria and Jowan. She had always been good. _Too_ good. And Jowan; he had seen that. He had taken advantage of her nature. Gwyn wanted to hate him, but he could not do it.

Had it not been for Jowan, he would have been sleeping alone that night, and he was not willing to let go of Torrian.

No matter what it took, he would preserve what they had.

** .**

**Next chapter: Dairren**


	15. Dairren

**Dairren**

His nose distracted me. It was bigger than I remembered, and he seemed to be speaking through it. I was barely aware of what he had said, but I could venture a guess.

"Pleased to see you too, Arl Howe," I said with a smile.

"My son asked after you. He says he saw you in town a few months ago; in fact, he was eager to come with me today and see if he could steal a glance of your lovely face." He chuckled.

"Did he? Such bold words for a youngling," I smiled at him. Of course he had meant Thomas – I had not heard of Nathaniel since our night together. Why would I? He had been very clear. The idea of Thomas fancying me was not appealing at all.

"Well, you're rather young yourself, my lady, so I'm sure you'll excuse a young man's fantasies."

"I will, as long as they stay so," I said. "I don't remember encouraging his appreciation towards my person."

He looked at me and then at my father. "What can I say?" My father chuckled. "My girl has a mind of her own." I smiled, but Howe did not.

"Yes, I must say I've heard her upbringing has been quite… unusual. But you know young Fereldan women these days. The Queen serves as a fine model for the young women who wish to partake in the political sphere. The world has certainly gone to the dogs, but what can we expect, with such a king?"

"Howe, I'm sure you remember that speaking against the King is never appreciated in this household." My father sounded annoyed.

"I've heard good things of King Cailan. He's well-liked by commoners and noblemen alike," I said. "What better thing to get from a king?"

"He pales in comparison with his father, my dear girl," Howe snorted. "A King must not be afraid to embrace the power from the crown bestowed on him. Look at us: we're forced to march to fight against something just so that the king can have bards singing of his glorious victory against the Darkspawn."

"That's enough, Howe." Yes, Dad was angry.

"I apologize, Your Lordship. I… got carried away," he said, lowering his head. I was surprised to see how strong Howe's dislike for the king seemed to be.

A soldier came in and approached my father. He said something and Dad nodded. "If you'll excuse us, darling," he told me, "The Warden-Commander has arrived and we're to discuss our plans for the following days."

"If these are plans that concern the running of the castle, I should be staying. And this _is_ about Rory, isn't it?"

Dad nodded and turned around to greet the man that had entered the hall. "Warden-Commander, it's a pleasure to see you. This is Arl Howe, and this is my youngest, Nerissa."

The Warden bowed and when he turned to me, he smiled and said, "Greetings, my lady. I am Duncan, Commander of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden."

"Well-met, Commander," I saluted. Duncan had a rugged appearance that suited him.

"Will you be marching with us tomorrow?" Howe asked.

"Actually, Duncan is here to test Ser Gilmore for recruitment. This is the only reason I'm leaving Rory behind."

"Am I to assist him in his display?" I said eagerly. I loved sparring with Rory.

"That would save me some time," Duncan said, "since I'd also like to recruit you, with your father's permission."

"Not unless you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription," Dad said, standing in front of me. Howe was watching the three of us.

I put a hand on Dad's shoulder and said to Duncan, "I'm flattered, Commander, but my duty is to oversee the running of the castle, at least until my father and my brother return. Although I'm sure you'll find Ser Gilmore to be an excellent addition to your ranks."

"Of that I have no doubt," Duncan said, staring at me with his dark eyes. "And do not fear, Your Lordship. I would never force the issue."

"You must excuse me, Duncan – but what can I say? When it comes to certain issues, this good lass here will always be my little girl," he said smiling. "Pup, please make sure that our guest feels comfortable during his stay. Oh, and one more thing: please tell Fergus that he'll have to depart on his own tonight. Time is of the essence, sweetheart. But before you tell him, let him enjoy some time with Oriana and Oren, yes?"

"Of course, Father," I bowed. "Gentlemen, I'll see you during dinner."

As I was going out of the hall, I saw a soldier looking at me, rather insistently. I approached him and he stood straight.

"Soldier? Is there something you wish to say?"

"Milady, forgive my indiscretion. You're the Teyrn's daughter, are you not?"

"I am indeed."

He stared at me. "That is good to know. If you're the one who will take charge of your father's castle, then I wish you good luck."

"Thank you," I said. There was something strange about that soldier. As I was walking away I felt his eyes on me. I shuddered, as if someone had walked over my grave. A merry voice called after me.

"There you are!" Rory walked towards me. "I was expecting you to come out through the other exit, and I didn't want to go across the hall."

"My father's in dubious company, yes."

"It's not my place to talk about the Arl," he said discreetly.

"How do you know I was talking about the Arl? I may have meant the Warden."

Rory raised an eyebrow, amused. "As if I didn't know what you think of-Wait. Did you say 'Warden'? As in _Grey _Warden?"

"Yes, and a Commander as well! Didn't you know? He's come here for you!"

"Maker's breath." Rory was pale. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, he'll test you for recruitment tomorrow. Aren't you excited?"

He picked me up gleefully. "Oh, can you imagine? _Me_, a Grey Warden!" When he realized what he had done, he left me on the floor and apologized. Same old Rory… A sweet fellow. In spite of our past differences –and mostly my tortuous behaviour towards him-, I had found a friend in him, and we got along just fine.

"By the way, Virgil is in the kitchen again. If you listen carefully, you'll hear the sound of Nanny screaming and banging pots in protest."

"That's good for her. Mother Mallol says that we must always strive to communicate with each other effectively, and Nanny's just letting us know how she feels."

"Well, the Teyrna seems to disagree. She told me to fetch you, so that you can go and get him out of the larder."

"Why didn't _she_ do it? Virgil is afraid of her; she'd have managed."

"Your mother is entertaining guests today: Lady Landra arrived a short while ago. And she didn't come alone." There was a mischievous smile on Rory's face.

"Careful," I warned him. "You don't want my mother to see that smirk."

"Of course not," he said, trying to look solemn.

"Well, let's go and greet our guests first, then."

"I'm afraid I must insist. She was very clear about it," he said, imitating my mother's voice, "'_Tell my darling daughter that she is to collect that hound from the kitchen immediately.' _Her words exactly."

I sighed. Mother was always finding mediums to haunt me with her nagging. "All right: going to the kitchen, right away."

* * *

"He's not a mongrel; he's a pureblood mabari, and you should be grateful, because he was actually defending the pantry from huge rats," I said to Nanny. "Imagine_ what_ would have happened if _any_ of you had gone into the larder and got bitten by one of those hideous beasts!"

"Rats from the Korcari Wilds," Rory added. "And you know how big they can be."

"The Wilds?" one of the kitchenhands asked. "Aren't we far away from the Wilds?"

"Certain events may have driven the rats away. Like a big fire," I lied.

"Oh mistress, please don't be angry with Virgil," one of the elven kitchen maids said. I liked her because she always had a soft spot for Virgil, saving scraps of food for him and scratching his belly when he felt playful. "The poor dog actually helped us!"

"Hmm," Nanny grunted, but she did not say anything else. I knew that the battle had been won, and I took Virgil with me before he made another mess. When we were out of the kitchen I told him, "Guess what? Dairren's here!" Virgil barked and bounced. "Maybe he's brought Mara along," I said. "If so, I'll leave you two some treats near the stables tonight."

Virgil sat in front of me and raised one of his huge paws, preventing me from going on. Once I had stopped, he licked a spot of blood that I had on my leg. He huffed and looked at me.

"Clever dog," Rory muttered. Virgil barked appreciatively. "If you don't mind, I think we should give him a bath."

"By all means! Virgil, go with Rory, and remember he's not the one who needs a bath, so do _not_ do what you did the last time, do you hear me?"

Virgil lowered his head and whimpered.

"He won't; right, little fellow? Come, let's leave your mistress to see to her guests," Rory said, and wished me good luck. I fixed my hair a little and walked towards the first floor, where my mother would be. I found her walking down to the courtyard, talking to Lady Landra, who had brought along her lady-in-waiting and Dairren.

"Darling!" There it was; her 'we-have-visitors' tone.

I smiled and approached them. "Yes, Mother?"

"Did you have time to solve the kitchen situation?"

"Yes, Mother. Nanny has resumed her culinary duties as we speak. Lady Landra," I turned to our visitor and curtsied. "It's lovely to see you in good health."

"You're too kind, my lady. Er… Do you remember my son, Dairren? You two met during your mother's last spring salon."

"I remember him, yes. How are you, Dairren?"

"It's good to see you again, my lady," he smiled.

"And this is my lady-in-waiting, Iona."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady. You are as pretty as your mother described."

"She did?" I looked at my mother in surprise. "Playing matchmaker again, Mother?"

"If only it were that easy," she sighed.

"Your daughter seems to have a mind of her own, Your Ladyship," Dairren said, smiling at her. "I'm sure you and the Teyrn can appreciate that."

"These children nowadays… My two boys are the same," Landra sighed as well.

"I only know I grow older as time goes by and I seem to be nowhere near having any more grandchildren," mother said, shaking her head.

"Perhaps you should be talking to Oriana about this. May I go now, Mother? I've got errands to run for Father," I said with a smile.

"I need to have a word with you about that," she told me.

Lady Landra excused herself, and Dairren and Iona said they would spend some time in the study. My mother followed them with her eyes and then held my hands. "Nerissa," she said, "we both know your father and brother are not going for a stroll. Chances are that… I just want to make sure you have time to say goodbye to them."

"I wish I didn't have to. You make it sound ominous."

"I know. But we must stay strong, and be ready. This will be your first taste of adulthood. I know you'll be fine."

"What about you?"

"I'll be staying for the first few days and then I will go to Landra's estate. Your father thinks it would be better for you to run this place without me."

"As you wish," I said.

She stared at me and pressed my hands. "I never have to worry about you, do I? You always know exactly what to do. Your father trusts you, and I will too. I just hope-"

"I have a bad feeling about this as well," I told her. "But we can't bid them a sad goodbye."

"It is true. They have their duty, and we have ours." She kissed my cheeks and said, "I love you, my darling girl. You know that, don't you?"

"I'm hardly a girl any longer, Mother."

She nodded slowly. "Indeed. And I don't know when that happened. It feels like one day you just turn around and your life has passed by. You're a fine woman, Nerissa, in your own right. I may not like it, but it is what it is." She stroked my cheek one last time and said, "Go. Do what you must."

"Thank you," I replied, eager to be away from our sentimental conversation. I turned around and dashed down towards the library. Brother Aldous was teaching the history of our family to our new squires. I entered the study room and closed the door behind me.

"Andraste's ass, how I_ missed_ you!" I said, running towards Dairren. He picked me up and spun me round, kissing me, as he always did.

* * *

_"Thank you for keeping the secret," I told him as we were dancing. It was my mother's spring celebration, a day dedicated to all the maidens of Highever._

_"No need to mention that," he said, smiling. "I'm glad to see you're fine. How is the mabari?"_

_"He's doing wonderfully fine. Would you like to see him later? I imagine he'll remember you."_

_"I'm not sure that's the wisest thing to do, my lady, considering he is not supposed to know me that well."_

_"You're right." I felt my face blushing. His fingers on my waist made me feel somewhat nervous. Perhaps I was not used to dancing with other people. My father and Fergus danced with me all the time. But having another man's hand over me gave me a strange feeling. I looked up and saw that Fergus was watching us. I smiled at Dairren and asked, "I actually didn't know if you would remember me."_

_"You have changed much," he said seriously. "Your hair looks different, and you look… healthy. I've heard your father makes you train hard. Is that what you like?" He was speaking softly, and I noticed he had a very nice voice._

_"I enjoy training with my father, yes." We got separated by the dance. He was a good dancer – light and agile. The style required a lot of hops and skips that had always seemed ridiculous in Fergus, but somehow, they were right for Dairren. I followed him in his moves, and when we finished, he picked me up, as it was customary for the Remigold. When it was over, I slid down his body until my feet touched the floor. He gave me a warm smile and congratulated me on my dancing skills. I asked him to get some light refreshments and I went out to the courtyard. The hall was crowded with people, and undoubtedly, my mother would start looking for me soon enough._

_Dairren came back with two refreshments. I thanked him and took the goblet from his hands. Our fingers touched and I almost dropped it, but he caught it without spilling anything. We laughed._

_That night we talked about many things. He had travelled to Orlais and to the Free Marches with his father when his brother had got sick, two years before. He was the third child of the house. His older sister had died a few years ago during childbirth, and he and his brother were in charge of the family business. He was very fond of their mabari hounds._

_"Did you know I was about to come here to be an apprentice?"_

_"Like Rory?" I saw him frown as if he did not recognize the name. "I'm sorry. Roderick Gilmore. He's our best squire in years, according to my father. He's a sweet lad."_

_"Is he now?"_

_"Oh yes! Poor Rory, I used to torture him when we were younger."_

_"I can't imagine that," he said softly._

_"Well, you can ask him about it. Although I'd rather you didn't. I did some pretty embarrassing things."_

_He said nothing. "Is Ser Gilmore your suitor, then?"_

_"Rory? No, not really. He's a dear friend, and my escort when I go to town, every first day of the month. It's become a tradition. Well, only in the last two years," I smiled. He smiled back and looked into his goblet._

_After a while he said, "Would it be inappropriate if I visited the town every first day of the month?"_

_I smiled at him and said, "I'm sure Highever will be glad to see you there."_

* * *

"Do you think your mother knows?" He was holding me in his arms and I had never been happier.

"No, you two were pretty convincing," I said, turning to Iona as well. She was smiling at us. Every month she would accompany him to Highever and buy things for Lady Landra, while Dairren met me a bit further away from town. Rory would escort Iona around the city instead, and I would spend the afternoon with Dairren. He was a good kisser and a great storyteller. He made me laugh with his anecdotes of the mabari, and he was so correct._ Too_ correct, in fact.

"So, you'll be in command tonight."

"Is that a promise?" I asked him.

He blushed and chuckled. "I don't know. Perhaps? Do you think you're… ready?"

I stroked his cheek. "I know I am. Is that what you want?"

"I think I do," he said. "After dinner, then?"

"Yes. No, wait. There's a service at the chapel after dinner. But yes. I'll see you in my room. It's the first room to your right from your room." I kissed him and he hugged me. "Looking forward to it," he whispered in my ear.

* * *

I caught them kissing. He was whispering something in her ear and she was nodding. I could tell that she was worried, but she was wearing a brave face. Oriana. She had always been so strong. Now Oren needed her more than ever. Fergus saw me standing at the door.

"Father says you'll have to lead the men tonight. He'll be leaving tomorrow morning, when the Amaranthine troops get here."

"Don't stand there, sis. Come in," he said.

"It's fine. Let me know when you have finished," I replied.

"Ashamed of seeing us kissing? Someday you'll have a man in your life and I'll be the one gagging at your door," my brother told me.

"Just one man? Three, at least!"

"Nerissa!" Oriana interrupted me. "We don't talk about those things in front of the men of the house."

"I uh… You do it behind our backs?" Fergus raised an eyebrow. "That's… disturbing."

"What you don't know can't kill you, my dear," she said sweetly.

"Well, it's a good thing I know what we'll be fighting against; right, sis?" Fergus turned to me. I wanted to say something funny, but suddenly, all the stories I had heard of the Darkspawn and their infamous raids appeared in front of my eyes.

"I'll miss you," I said, hugging him.

"Hey, I'll miss you too. Maker, don't do this to me now, Nerissa. You're supposed to be the strong one. I'm the cuddly puppy." He kissed the top of my head and said, "If it's any consolation, I'm sure I'll freeze my ass down there, and I'll envy you, safe and warm in here."

"Fergus," Oriana slapped the back of his head.

"If I were you, I'd consider coming with me – the ladies of the house have an easy hand," he told me, moving away from Oriana. "Of course, Father would never allow it. The princess has to stay in the castle."

"With the dragon?"

"Shush! She'll hear you and I'll be in greater trouble than the Darkspawn horde!" We laughed. Father and Mother came in the room, bringing Oren along. Fergus hugged his son and told him that if he was good while he was away, he would get a real sword as a reward. Oren nodded and hid his face in his father's neck, trying not to cry. Fergus left him with Oriana and hugged my mother.

"I will pray for your safety, my darling boy," Mother said. "There will be a vigil tonight, for all our men, so that you return home soon, safe and sound." Oriana nodded approvingly.

"Fergus will be fine, Mother," I said, as Dad put his arm around me.

"No mindless beast can best me, Mother. I'll miss your nagging," he said, embracing her. "You will take care of her, won't you?"

"Fergus, if there's one thing we know for sure about Mother is that she can handle herself. Don't you worry. We'll all be here, waiting for you."

"Let's leave this side of the family to have dinner on their own, yes?" Father offered Mother and me his arms and we went to have dinner with our guests.

As we were at the table, I looked at my family and I thought about Gwyn. How I wished he could have been there with us. He would have got along with Dairren. Both had wanted to be Chantry scholars. Both were kind and thoughtful. I thought he would approve of Dairren definitely more than he would Nathaniel. Dairren caught me gazing at him across the table and looked at me from behind his goblet, trying to hide a mischievous smile.

_"Is there anything you're passionate about?" I had asked him one afternoon, some months before._

_"_Passionate?_ That's quite the word. In all truth, yes. There is one thing I feel passionate about." He stopped walking and looked at me. I blushed. "Books," he had said with a smile. "Stories. Legends. There's nothing my heart wants more than adventure. But alas, I am just a bookworm. My adventures are all in here," he had said, touching his forehead._

_"I can appreciate a man of intelligence," I had said, hoping not to sound too forward._

_"I'm not sure the number of books read is connected to how intelligent a person is."_

_"Well, I do think you're very intelligent."_

_He had turned towards me and held my hand. "You're too kind, my lady," he had said, before twisting it gently and kissing the palm._

The memory made me blush. I was trying to free my mind from those thoughts, lest someone could read minds, when I heard my father mentioning Dairren's name.

"I'm sorry?" I asked.

"I was saying that it will be good to have such fine company riding with me tomorrow. Young Dairren reminds me a lot of our dear Gwyn. It will be nice to chat with him."

I stared at Dairren. He was not looking at me.

* * *

Mother Mallol had conducted the service wonderfully. Lady Landra, Iona, Oriana, Mother and I left the chapel and Father met us outside.

"I'll be staying up with the men, at least for a while." He kissed my mother on the cheek and asked if he could have a word with me.

"Don't keep her up, Bryce. There's much to do tomorrow. Good night, Nerissa," Mother kissed me. "I'll see you in the morning, bright and early."

As I watched her leave with the other women, I told Dad, "I do not think that sending all of our forces to the Wilds is a good idea."

"If we are going to do this, we can't do it half-heartedly. We must give our best. We owe it to both, the King and Ferelden. You'll keep a small token here, and you must prepare them, just in case."

"I will do my best."

"I know you will, my dear." He kissed my forehead and caressed my cheek. "You're a Cousland. Should anything happen, I trust you completely to carry on our name. Which reminds me… Dairren has come to talk to me. Do not arch those eyebrows of yours. I suppose you know why."

"I really have no idea, Dad," I said genuinely.

"He wants to marry you. He was very nice. He said that he was aware that his family name was not as weighty as ours, but that he loved you and wanted to wed you as soon as possible. I assume it is because he is leaving with us tomorrow. And I suppose that those outings to town were more than they seemed," he tossed my hair.

I was stunned. Dairren had never said anything of the kind. "Are you sure?" I asked my father.

"Pretty much. I told him that I would not give him your hand in marriage unless you consented. If you love him, you have my blessing. You can even get married before we depart tomorrow morning. It will not be the fancy wedding your mother would have wanted for you, but there will be love in it, and that is all that matters."

I must have looked ecstatic, because he smiled at me and embraced me. He held me tight and rocked me softly. "You're such a sensible woman. I know you'll do me proud, Pup. Always."

* * *

Having had time to consider it, I did not know how to feel about Dairren. He had lied to me. By omission. Still a lie. He had failed to tell me that he would be going away with Father the next day. But he wanted to marry me. Was I ready to be married? In a way, I would have chosen him anyway. And I did not care for a fancy wedding. But I was aware that we would not spend a long time together, and that I did not even know if he was going to return to me.

I was brushing my hair when I heard a soft knock on my door. "Nerissa?" Dairren's soft voice, calling me. My heart skipped a beat. Another soft knock. His voice, calling my name one more time. I pressed my forehead against the door and said, "Why didn't you tell me you would be going away tomorrow?"

"Let me in and I'll explain," he said.

"Just tell me."

"All right," I heard him sigh. "Your father contacted me a week ago. He needed a second, since Roderick would be tested by the Warden. I… It was my chance of living an adventure. You know how much I've always wanted that."

I said nothing. I felt a tear rolling down one of my cheeks. I understood. I was just disappointed that what we had was not enough for him.

"But then it occurred to me," he continued, "that you were everything I wanted, in more than one way. The excitement I felt when I knew I'd be riding here, to the castle… It wasn't about the upcoming battle. It was because I'd be seeing you here, in your home, in the open. No more hiding for us. I wanted to come clean, because I've never been so sure of anything in my life, except for the fact that I love you. I love you, and I want to spend my life by your side, as your husband and lover."

I opened the door and grabbed him by hand. He closed the door behind him and took me in his arms, kissing me with a passion that he had never shown before. He kissed my tears away until they turned into smiles.

We spent a long time like that, barely talking. His hands were kind, but they ran along my body with a fiery intensity. He kissed me again and again, and I wanted him to go on like that forever.

"Your father agreed on a quick wedding, but do you?" He asked me after a while. We were lying in bed, side by side, making plans for our future together. "I know that women usually want greater celebrations, but you are unlike every other woman, so…"

"You know me so well," I said, nuzzling him. "A short, quick one will do."

"Are we talking about the wedding or something else?" We laughed. "I can't wait to marry you," he said, kissing me. "_Then_ we can be together."

"Oh no," I said. "You promised me you'd sleep with me tonight!"

"I didn't say anything of the kind, my dear. Although I must admit it would look very improper if I rushed you out of the chapel and into the bedroom for something quick before we leave tomorrow morning."

"Well, then," I said, "that's why we should have our wedding night tonight."

"You minx," he chuckled. "You're enjoying this more than the prospect of the wedding."

"You bet I am," I replied, kissing him.

"Well, then let me put the ring on you, so that at least we can pretend we're married," he said, looking for the ring. He frowned. "I could have sworn it was in this pocket. Oh no," he said, finding a hole. "It must have fallen on my way here. My room is not far from here. Wait. I'll be back soon." He quickly went out of the room and I stayed in bed. _Should I take my clothes off?_ I thought. That would be a surprise for him. No, it would be better if I asked him to take them off me. I smiled in anticipation.

But after a while, he had not returned. I poked my head out of the room and tiptoed to the guest wing. As I got to the connecting door, I noticed it had been left ajar, and I caught a glimpse of some soldiers. Their blades were drawn and bloodied. I pressed my back to the wall, my mind racing. I dashed back to my room and closed the door behind me. I took my daggers and my pouch of deathroot powder and prayed that Virgil would hear the whistle. It had been a present from Dairren and I had never used it. I had never needed to.

I heard a commotion outside. Some screaming. Silence. And there it was, the fierce barking, coming closer. A man shouted something and I opened the door, just in time to see Virgil jumping at his throat. The weight of the dog was too much for the man, who collapsed and fainted. I saw another man about to attack Virgil and I took the knife from my cinch, hoping that my aim was good. It was. It hit him right between the eyes.

I was barely aware of what was happening. These were not Darkspawn. These were men. Not bandits. Soldiers. Trained to kill their enemies, to die for a cause. But whose? Blood flew wildly around me. I was not thinking. I could not think. I remembered my father's repetitive exercises. Back, under arm, over arm, reverse. A hundred times. Virgil's howling took them by surprise, and I used that to my advantage. Through the corner of my eye, I saw a man coming. He was too close. An arrow hit him square on the chest. I turned around and saw my mother, in her own armor, bow in hand.

Virgil licked a superficial cut on my arm. Mother ran towards me. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," I said, panting.

She crouched and touched a man's face. "I don't recognize him."

"They're not ours. They can't be."

She turned one of them around. The emblem of a bear stared at us.

"Howe," I murmured.

"That treacherous bastard," Mother spat.

"We have to be careful," I said. "If they've got this far, who knows what they've done to the rest of the castle."

"Or to your father," she said weakly.

I turned around. "He's not here with you?"

"He never came to bed," she whispered and stared at me. She gripped my hand. "We must find him, Nerissa!"

"We will, I swear-" I stopped. Oriana's door was open, but nobody had come out.

"No…" I heard Mother say. "No, no, no, not them! Maker, not them!" She ran into the room. I followed her. There was a dead soldier lying on the floor. No wounds. I sniffed the body. Poison. I covered my nose quickly. Oriana had put up a fight. I looked around and saw my mother kneeling down. Oren's body lay there. His throat had been slit. A clean cut. I felt my stomach twisting and I looked away. Then I spotted Oriana. Her throat had been cut as well, her white night dress stained with dark red blood. I knelt down beside her and closed her eyes. Oh, Fergus… I had failed him. He would not stand this blow.

I turned around and saw my mother holding Oren's body in her arms, whispering something to him. I did not want to cry. I did not want to believe it. I had to stay strong. I had to get answers.

"Sleep tight, my love," Mother said, kissing Oren's cold forehead. I offered her my hand and she took it. She stood up. "We must find your father," she said to me.

As we got to the guest wing, I remembered. _Dairren._ He was not a Cousland. Maybe he had been spared. As I opened the door, my mother took her bow, ready to shoot. Virgil howled and I took a pinch of deathroot powder, stunning the first soldier. He would not be a problem for a while. Virgil pounded him against the floor. "Shred!" I yelled. Those were not people. Those were beasts, and they deserved everything we did to them.

One of the men caught me from behind. I hit him squarely in the face with my head and he dropped me, holding his bloody nose. A flip of the wrist and reversed stab took him in the chest. As another approached, I kicked him on the groin and stabbed him through the back of the neck. Mother's arrows finished the other man that had been pinned down by Virgil.

"Landra!" Mother shouted, and entered our guest's room. I turned on my heels and went to Dairren's room.

I found him on the floor. He had been stabbed on the back. He had had no chance to defend himself. I saw his fingers moving weakly. He was still alive. Barely. I knelt beside him and caressed his red hair. He coughed and wheezed.

"Don't talk," I said, pressing the wound. "I'll get you a healer soon. You'll be fine, love. You'll see."

He shook his head softly and tried to move.

"Stay still," I said. "You have a nasty cut on your-" And then I saw the blood on the floor. I was kneeling in a pool of blood. He tried to turn around one more time and I helped him. When I saw his chest, I knew. He was not going to make it. A tear rolled down my cheek, and another, and another.

"I'm sorry!" I cried. "I'm sorry! Forgive me! Maker, forgive me! I shouldn't have let you come alone, I…" I was aware that I was yelling, but I did not care if more soldiers found me. I did not care.

He reached out and stroked my face. Something fell from his hand. A ring. It rolled away, under the bed. I bent down and kissed his lips, but he did not return my kiss. He was not breathing.

"Dairren!" I shouted. "Please!" I could not breathe. A hand was pressing against my mouth, muffling my screams.

"Calm down," Mother said behind me. I shook my head frantically, but her hand was strong. "We need to stay alive, Nerissa. Do you understand that?" When she saw that I was not responding she asked again, "Do you understand what I said, Nerissa? Breathe in and out slowly. Do it, darling. In and out." I breathed in and out as she said, and she let go of me. "We need to find your father and get out of the castle. There's nothing left for us here. We'll pick up some things from the treasury first." I got on my feet and looked ahead, away from Dairren, away from my mother. "Where are you going?" she asked, running behind me.

"Treasury, then look for Father," I replied. "In the meantime, I'm going to kill them all."

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**Next Chapter: Father**


	16. Father

**Father**

_I hold his hand, even though I know that he dislikes these displays of affection. He presses my hand weakly. We haven't always seen eye to eye, but he's my father, and I owe him everything. He moves his lips and murmurs something. I lean forward and ask him to repeat what he's just said. He says, "We've always been so proud of you, Bryce. So proud." He dies a short time later._

_The sweet smell of the apples in autumn comes back to me; so does the warmth of the afternoon sun, and Eleanor's first kiss._

These memories… They keep coming to me. I can't seem to push them away. I love them, but not now. I still feel I have so much to do. I need more time. This can't be the end.

I was so slow, so trusting… And _he_, he had been waiting…

I press the wound on the right side. I know there's another one, at the back. I don't have much time left. I hope that Duncan returns with them soon.

_Gwyn looks at me. I tell him that I don't like it either, but he needs to go to a place where he can learn to control the power that the Maker has given him. He breaks down, and asks me not to tell Nerissa that he's cried, because he doesn't want her to suffer. I hug him and I feel his young body shaking. He's terrified, but I know he won't show it._

I hear footsteps outside. I try to sit up. Maybe I can hide. It's not about my life – I know I won't make it. But I want to see their faces one last time. I must endure. I have to live on.

_Elissa is running. I ask her to stop, but she laughs. She falls and slides, grazing her chin. She doesn't cry, not until I get to where she's lying. Only then does she burst into tears. She circles my neck with her little arms. I pick her up and take her to her room, humming a song only the two of us know. I clean her wound and she clings onto my sleeve. When the same happens to Oren many years later, I teach him the tune. Now it's our melody._

I hear the shouting of the servants outside. They try to persuade Howe's men that I'm not here. Part of me wants to shout so that they come to me – I want to be found, and be done with this. The servants' screams make my blood curl. They're being slaughtered like animals; all because of me. The soldiers don't come in the larder.

Why…?

_Seeing Fergus's blushing face is not an everyday thing. My boy. He wants to wed Oriana because he loves her. I see him, and I see the Couslands. He's got everything I could have wanted in a son. He's strong, fair, and kind. He's more similar to Eleanor than he'd like to admit. I tell him that I'm proud of him and he smiles._

The door opens and my heart beats faster. I see their faces. Eleanor. Nerissa. They see me. I don't want them to see me like this. Eleanor kneels in front of me, touching my face, my chest. She sees the growing pool of blood and she can't believe I'm alive. Nerissa crouches next to us. Her face… Her face is stained with blood. Not hers. I'm relieved that it's not hers. But Oriana and Oren are not here. It's too late for them.

I look at my daughter. Her face is livid. She's shaking. She knows that hatred leads nowhere; I don't need to remind her of that. She tells me that she'll kill Howe, and I believe her. But not now. Now she needs to leave, away from the castle, far from this treason.

It hurts. I try to put on a brave face for them, but I've never felt this way. I know it's the end for me, and I tell them so. Nerissa doesn't hesitate. She stands up and readies her blades. She's prepared to stay and defend what's left of us. But I need her to go and warn Fergus. He must be saved.

Duncan barges in. He'll be going to Ostagar. He must take them with him, perhaps leave them elsewhere. Maybe Redcliffe. But Duncan talks about a larger plan – greater needs. I understand. Nerissa frowns and says she needs to find Fergus and take vengeance. Dear child… At this moment, her emotions are running so fast that she can't see that her duty is to her country first. Whether we fail or succeed, we bleed for Ferelden. She tells Duncan that she will accept her role in the plan, as long as he can take us away from there.

But my fate is sealed, and so is Eleanor's. She holds my hand and tells me that she won't leave me. I can't argue with her. Nerissa paces about, shaking her head, looking for a way to fight. Eleanor stops her and tells her to be sensible. My Eleanor… She'll stay with me until the end.

Pup…

You kneel down by my side and look into my eyes. Go. Please, go. Remember us. Live. I want to tell you so many things, but I can't. I can no longer speak. It's starting to get colder in here. Duncan takes you by the arm and leads you away. You look back one more time, and then you're gone. Forever.

Eleanor tells me my forehead is sweaty. She wipes the beads with her fingers. Her lovely fingers. She kisses me and I can smell the apples in the air. The door opens once more, and here he is. Eleanor turns around and stands in front of me. She's my shield. She's always been. She draws her knife and I know what's going to happen. I know him.

He disarms her and grabs her by the hair. He tells her it doesn't have to be this way. He whispers in her ear and she shudders. She spits on him. He crosses her face with his hand and she falls. She crawls back, and looks at me. She has no space to handle her bow. I've got trouble focusing on her.

_After our first night together, she looks into my eyes and tells me that she will love me forever. I have never felt so complete in my life._

Two soldiers grab her by the arms. I draw Howe's attention. How do you bargain with a man that has just taken everything he's always wanted? Howe stands in front of me. He presses my wound with his foot. I can't scream; Eleanor does it for me. Howe signals his soldiers and they sink their blades. Eleanor… They drop her body and her blood is spilled on the ground. Her blood, red as the apples of the tree, red as the hatred in my daughter's eyes…

Nerissa…

Howe starts talking. He taunts me. He tells me that he's got something prepared for Fergus, and that Nerissa will die in Ostagar. He also has greater plans. He starts talking about the years he's been planning this night, and his motives… He knows that I can't leave, that I'm forced to listen to what he says… But somehow, his voice becomes muffled, and gets lost…

_It's a bright day. The first one since I've received news from Elissa's Tranquility. I haven't slept for two days. I wander along the corridors and suddenly I hear _"Pupup"_. I stop. _"Pupup!"_ I go back on my steps and look for the voice. There she is. Standing on her chubby legs, a bit wobbly, clinging onto the leg of a small table. She looks at me and laughs, showing me her four teeth. She cries out, _"Pupup!"_ and stretches one hand towards me, opening and closing her little fist. I smile. She smiles back. I walk towards her and she lets go of the table, falling in my arms. I hold her and she touches my face very softly. She laughs and wriggles, and says _"Pupup"_ once more. I kiss her nose and she gives me a slobbery kiss. I hug her tight. I don't want her to grow up._

I feel his fingers on my face. So far away. I do not care for his reasons. I try to think about my children, but I can't see their faces anymore. Eleanor's face, however, is bright and soft. She smiles at me. I don't feel cold anymore. She takes me by the hand and leads me to our tree.

She kisses me, and I feel complete again.

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**Next Chapter: Duncan**


	17. Epilogue to Act One

**Epilogue to Act One**

Against all odds, they had made good progress. By midnight, they were well past West Hill and Fergus was pretty confident that they would reach the fortress of Ostagar in three days. The walk along the Dane would not take more than a day, and then they would march along the Imperial Highway. Perhaps they would stop in Lothering for the night.

As he dismounted, a sudden chill hit him. He shuddered and shrugged. He wrapped up in his cloak and shuffled his feet. The night was cold there. He blew into his hands and thought about his family, warm and safe in the castle.

Fergus hoped the battle would be swift. He was confident that his men would help make a difference. He was skeptical of that being a new Blight. Surely it was nothing more than a large raid, and sooner than they expected, they would be back in Highever. He looked at the group of men that accompanied him. Good soldiers; better people.

"The tent will be ready in a short while, m'lord," one of the men said.

"Oh, no. That won't be necessary. I'll stay by the campfire, with the rest of you," Fergus said, patting the man on the shoulder. The man grinned. Fergus Cousland was very much like his father. Perhaps he was not the best orator, but he was well-liked by everybody. His sister, Lady Cousland, had bridged the gap between the inhabitants of the castle and those of the town with her simple gestures and unpretentious manners.

Those were the children of Bryce Cousland. The Teyrns of Highever had always had a way to have their people follow them without pushing anybody, and Bryce's heirs fully embodied the spirit of the Cousland line. They had always thought of others before themselves. They had even given in one of their own for the sake of everybody else's safety.

The man took his place on the circle around the fire, and he heard Fergus laughing and singing with the other men, to keep the cold away, to bring them closer to home. These Couslands, the man thought, are something worth dying for.

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A/N: This is the end of the first part of the Couslands' tale. The story continues on "Last Of The Couslands - The Warrior, The Mage, and The Warden" (here in FanFiction it's **/s/9132431/1/** - feel free to check it out! Thanks for reading!


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